


For Love and For Honor

by wolfiefics



Category: Alexander the Great (2003) RPF, Ancient History RPF, Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient Greece, I trash on the Tyrions but really they were in a no-win situation, M/M, Marvel Happily Ever After Harlequin Hoopla 2020, Meddling Friends, cavalryman/investigator bucky, classical greek love and male acceptance, specifically Ptolemy Perdikkas Alexander and Hephaestion, strategist/warrior steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfiefics/pseuds/wolfiefics
Summary: Stephanos, a soldier in Alexander the Great’s army is seduced by Buchanan, a fellow soldier who sees great things for Stephanos. During the long siege of Tyre, Bucky becomes involved in investigating an assassination attempt against their young Macedonian king and is taken prisoner. It’s up to Steve to rescue him, fighting for his king and the man he loves.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, implied Alexander/Hephaestion
Comments: 23
Kudos: 39
Collections: MHEA Harlequin Hoopla Prompt Challenge 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been a student of Alexandrian history since around 2002. While I realize Alexander had his issues, subscriptions in some cases, and was likely a meglomaniac towards the end of his short, yet brilliant life, I can't help but admire the man and his accomplishments. Even as brutal as some of them were. He was a man of his times and his upbringing. His world is much different than our own and today it's hard to read his story and remember that.
> 
> I've attempted to inject humanity in the brutality of the Macedonian army's battles against the Persian Empire by using Steve and Bucky's points of view. While they don't regret their actions, I've attempted to give a feel of a soldier in Alexander's army mindset. But above all, this is a romance, so while there are battles, there's not much in the blood and gore category.
> 
> I won't give a history, if you're interested in skimming the era, Wikipedia will serve you well. Questions, comments, and constructive criticism are always welcome. This is unbetaed, however, so flames will be burned in effigy and swept up with the vacuum. :)
> 
> Join me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/wolfiefics)! I take prompts and plot bunnies of all shapes and sizes!

Stephanos, son of Joseph, stood overlooking the plains of Granicus, watching the Persian army in hasty retreat. It was nothing short of miraculous, in more ways than one. So many of his comrade in arms were dead by Persian chariots and arrows but not only had Steve come through intact but he also had nary a scratch on him. He tugged his chiton back into place from where it was tangled about him from the fierce fighting. His leather and linen cuirass was splattered with blood and dirt. He ran a hand through golden hair, finding it gritty and sweat-wet from his helm.

“Steve!” called a voice behind him and he turned to face the caller. It was Antigonus, his commander. The older man jogged to him, still brandishing his sword. “Well fought, for a barbarian!” chortled Antigonus, slapping Steve on the right shoulder jovially. “Can’t believe we’ve got the bastards on the run,” the older man grunted, relieving himself of his own helm.

“I don’t think even Alexander foretold the Persians would tuck tail and run, my lord,” Steve said differentially. He liked Antigonus, who was a wily old codger, a former confidant of the now-deceased Philip of Macedon. Steve respected the older Macedonian for his experience in battle and his friendship to a barbarian man.

Born of a wild tribe in lands far to the west, Steve had been brought by his father and mother to Macedon as a babe. Macedon was the only home he remembered and he was loyal to the bone, not only to Macedon but also to its ruling house, the Argaeds, who accepted his barbarian family with nary a blink. His father, a merchant of honest reputation, had made sure his only son was well-taught in mathematics, literature, and the art of war. Macedon was a warrior’s society, unlike the weak-willed Athenians to the south. Once Athens had been great; now she was just a well-perfumed whore mewling about the injustices of life.

Steve had been accepted as one of many pages that served the royal house. Philip himself had singled Steve out for additional combat training when he’d seen, as the old king put it, ‘Stephanos fly’. Steve’s arials in combat, leaping and jumping about, dodging his opponent had impressed Philip with its ingenuity. Steve had never seen favor in Philip’s bed, to his enormous relief, but Philip had seen that Steve would be a formidable warrior in his army, loyal and fierce.

Now Steve served Philip’s son with equal loyalty and fervor. At first, he’d been uncertain of Alexander, the prince being an unknown factor in Steve’s life. Rumor was Alexander’s mother, Olympias, was a witch and consorted with demons, casting evil spells on those who stood in the way of Alexander’s rise to power.

Perhaps including Alexander’s own father, Philip.

Shaking himself from these near blasphemous thoughts, Steve smiled at his commanding officer. “I have several commendations of men who fought well today.”

Antigonus chortled. “I’m sure you have,” he agreed. “I’ve never met a warrior quite like you, Steve. You seek honors for others, but none for yourself, remarkable though your own skills are.”

Steve flushed. He didn’t like to make a fuss over his own skills and preferred to raise his brothers-in-arms up to the attention of great ones. His friends told him with exasperation that he was too humble.

Antigonus, sensing Steve’s discomfiture, slapped the younger man on the shoulder again. “I must see to the wounded and then report to Alexander our losses this day. Make ready your commendations, if you must, but be sure to add yourself to the list, Steve. I saw you fight. You did your family proud this day. I will not soon forget it.”

Steve knew his blush intensified when Antigonus smiled widely at him in teasing comradery before turning to the aides who were approaching hurriedly. Antigonus had a lot to do after a battle, as much if not more than before a battle, Steve reflected. It was a job Steve didn’t want. He preferred the front lines, sarissa in hand, readying himself for the enemy’s charge. He preferred to be in the thick of things rather than commanding the men around him to their doom. He preferred to go to Hades on his own terms, serving his king and country with honor.

A horse flashed by but pulled up. Steve didn’t recognize the rider. He wasn’t overly familiar with the cavalry units that much. They were usually hand-picked by Alexander himself, his close companions and officers, excellent riders willing to send horse and man into the thick of things. Steve, while an excellent rider, preferred being a foot soldier.

“You!” called the rider, calming the agitated mount with a gentle pat. “Have you seen Antigonus?”

“Yes, my lord, he just went with his aides that way,” Steve pointed, “to see to the dead and wounded for an accounting to the king.”

The horseman pulled his helm off and shook out sweaty and grimy brown hair. Blue eyes that were more gray than blue pierced Steve through. The man, dirty and bloody though he was, was beautiful. Never had Steve seen such a beautiful man.

“I am Buchanan,” introduced the rider with a half bow.

“Stephanos, son of Joseph,” Steve introduced in return also with a bow.

“Ah yes, the barbarian wunderkind!” exclaimed Buchanan, swinging himself off the horse, who shied away. A firm hand on the reins still the horse’s motion. “I’ve seen you fight in competitions and such. You are impressive. Glad to see you’ve come about this battle unscathed.”

“And you as well, my lord,” Steve said differentially. He didn’t recognize the man but it was likely he was a nobleman’s son.

“No need for formality, Stephanos,” laughed Buchanan, obviously still on the adrenaline high from the battle so recently ended. “You are Steve, I understand, and I am Bucky. My friends call me Bucky.”

“Bucky.” Steve nodded in acquiescence. 

Bucky looked off to the horizon where the dregs of the Persian army were mere dots in the desert landscape. “I can’t believe we routed the Persian King himself,” Bucky said with amazed sincerity.

“Nor I. But this is just one battle. We still have the war,” Steve cautioned.

Bucky turned laughing blue-gray eyes on him. “Indeed, wise words were never more spoken.” Bucky hesitated and Steve wondered why. This man didn’t strike him as shy about voicing his thoughts. “I saw you fighting today. We fought near each other for a time. You’re amazing. I was hoping you lived. I want to commend you to Alexander. You kept yourself and the men around you alive. Your ferocity and skill are unparalleled.”

Steve once again found himself blushing, this time from pleasure at the praise rather than the discomfort such praised usually gave him. “Please don’t. I don’t want accolades. I only want to serve.”

Bucky gave him a sharp look and then shrugged. “Well, I’m going to at least mention your name to Alexander. What he does with that is up to him. You deserve something for your actions here today.” Bucky dropped the reins to the ground and the horse remained where it was, well trained. The cavalryman walked over to Steve and gave him a light slap on the cheek. “Be more confident in yourself, Steve. You fight well, you lead well, you have the lives of the men around you on your mind when you fight. Alexander needs more leaders in this army, men he can trust to get the job done with minimal casualties if possible. Look around you,” Bucky motioned his arm around to get Steve to look around them. “These men are watching you.”

Steve felt self-conscious. Bucky was right. The men milling about the fallen and dead were watching them both, no doubt wondering why a cavalryman was speaking to a foot soldier.

“You fight with them as an equal, even though you are not Macedonian by birth. Rumor of you and your abilities have been floating around the army for years. You are a gifted warrior, Steve. Accept that and the laurels that go with it as your due from the gods. If man and god put you in harm’s way and you survive it intact, rejoice!”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at Bucky’s infectious joy at their survival of this bloody battle. “I suppose, yes, you’re right,” he conceded.

Bucky barked a laugh. “Finally!” he crowed. “So, you’ll let me speak to Alexander about you?”

“I want to remain where I am,” Steve told him sternly. “Perhaps in future I’ll accept higher rank but for now I am content to serve where I am most useful.”

Bucky gave an insouciant shrug, as if it didn’t matter to him where Steve remained in the army. “As you wish.” He walked back to his horse and swung back up onto the horse’s back. “I expect we’ll see each other soon, then, Stephanos, son of Joseph.”

“I suspect so, Buchanan,” Steve said with a cocky grin he actually felt. 

Bucky let out a whoop and galloped off in the direction Steve had pointed Antigonus having gone. As the hoofbeats receded Steve found himself feeling strangely bereft without Bucky’s enthusiasm and obvious admiration. It wasn’t the first time people had praised Steve’s skills. Before Steve had brushed them off as embarrassing. With Bucky’s praise, Steve felt ten feet tall and willing to take on the Persian king Darius’ personal guards by himself and win. It didn’t hurt that Bucky was devastatingly handsome; there was also something charismatic about him.

Shaking himself from his reverie Steve turned his attention to the dead and wounded about him cataloging the battle in his mind for those who still lived and had fought well enough to be singled out by their superiors. He also cataloged the deeds of the dead to tell their families and friends for comfort.

Battles may be necessary for empires but they were hard on the soul.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention, I've recently had a death in my family and I'm the executor of the estate. Next week I'll be in a location where there's no internet so I'll be queueing posts to be updated on my phone. However, if that doesn't work for some reason, don't panic. I will update as soon as I return on Sunday. Bear with me while real life kicks me around awhile. :)

Bucky galloped away feeling like someone had sucker punched him in the gut. Sure, he’d heard of the mighty Stephanos, the barbarian raised as a son of Macedon, praised by Philip himself for his uncommon skills. Bucky had never met the man before though. No one had ever bothered to mention how _gorgeous_ Steve was. Bucky felt like a callow youth in the man’s presence. Golden hair, eyes the color of the ocean, his skin sun-kissed but not burnished brown despite his occupation, Steve was a man to lust after that was for sure. Better suited for the bedchamber than a battlefield, in Bucky’s not so humble opinion.

He found Antigonus a few moments later, heading for a makeshift field hospital. “Antigonus!” he called out, halting the older general’s footsteps.

“Ah, young Buchanan, you survived,” Antigonus called back as Bucky dismounted once again. “How fares the king?”

“Well. Lord Hephaestion suffered a wound to his arm and Ptolemy one to his thigh. I left them both bellowing like wounded bulls. Alexander walks among the injured in the hospital tents when I came to look for you. What news of your troops?”

Antigonus looked haggard a moment. “Less than I had anticipated but a good deal more than I’m comfortable with.”

Bucky made a grunt of acknowledgement and sympathy. “Alexander bids you to feast tonight, if you’re up to it. He asks that you bring along any commendations of men who fought well that need recognition.” Like Steve, he thought privately.

“I have many,” sighed the older officer. “I saw you and that horse of yours prancing among us in the thick of battle. You should put yourself in for a commendation as well, whelp.” Bucky grinned. Antigonus slapped him congenially on the chest with the back of his hand. “You were of great assistance out there. I guess cavalry isn’t as useless as I’ve said it is.”

Bucky laughed. “I’m glad you came through alive, old man,” he said in return. “Alexander would have been broken hearted to lose you.”

“I have a special commendation that I want you to take to Alexander immediately,” Antigonus told him, his expression and words turning serious. “I will expound more in person to Alexander but I want the king to have the man’s name now to chew on.”

“Oh?”

“Stephanos, son of Joseph, the barbarian merchant. We call him Steve. I’ve all but given up trying to raise him through the ranks myself. He refuses to budge or take higher commission. Perhaps if it comes from his king, he’ll grudgingly accept it.”

Bucky’s heart lept. “I saw him fight. I’d planned on mentioning him to Alexander as well. Perhaps with two of us speaking on Steve’s behalf, Alexander will give it the attention it’s due.”

Antigonus grinned with relief. “You are a good man, Buchanan, despite your profligate ways.”

Bucky gave his superior a cocky grin and headed back for his horse. “I’ll see you tonight, then, old man. Tonight we’ll drink to Steve and those who lived. And properly mourn those who gave their lives to their king this gods awful day.”

“Til tonight,” Antigonus said, turning away back to the injured and dying, already dismissing Bucky from his mind for the time being.

Bucky wheeled his horse around and galloped off towards where he’d left the king. He dodged the wounded and dead nimbly, trusting in his own skill as a horseman and his steed’s grace to not trample anyone. Before long he was at a tent where a young man roughly Bucky’s age, as golden haired as Steve but without the piercing blue eyes, was coming out of.

“Ho, Bucky!” called the other man, raising a hand. “Reckless!”

Bucky gave a wide smile. “I’m careful, Alexander, always.”

Alexander, king of Macedon, with his mismatched eyes merely shook his head with a grin and approached Bucky, who dismounted. “What news from Antigonus?”

“He’s still evaluating, but not as bad as he feared it would be apparently. He has commendations to give you this evening but bid me put a name forth immediately for your consideration.”

“Oh?” Alexander looked taken aback.

“I wish to add my voice to the chorus of this man’s deeds. I fought near him when we relieved Antigonus. He fights like a demon to the enemy and in defense of the men who serve with him. Antigonus despairs of giving the man his proper due, so humble is he. We think perhaps with two of us putting forth his name and his king giving him praise, he’ll accept it more graciously.” Bucky handed the reins of his mount off to a page and walked side by side with his young king.

“Who is this paragon then?” Alexander seemed amused.

“Stephanos, son of Joseph, the barbarian merchant.”

Alexander was silent a moment and Bucky chanced a glance in his king’s direction. Alexander didn’t seem surprised, just thoughtful. They walked a bit of a distance from the hospital tent before Alexander stopped and turned to face Bucky.

“Father spoke of Stephanos’ skills once or twice,” Alexander admitted. “How amazing he was and how Father predicted great things for Stephanos. Perhaps it’s time to fulfill my father’s prophecies.”

Bucky relaxed. “Steve himself asked me to let him remain with his fellow hoplites. He seeks no honors other than to serve Macedon and her king.”

“Humble indeed,” murmured Alexander, still lost in thought. “How does one reward such humble yet ferocious courage without embarrassing the recipient?”

“I leave that for you to figure out,” Bucky told him. “To be honest, I was quite taken with him.”

Alexander gave him a sharp glance and then his serious countenance widened into a knowing smile. “Handsome, is he?”

“Exquisite. I wouldn’t mind him between my thighs or me between his,” confessed Bucky with no shame. “He is well spoken, and indeed, most humble. He understood the gravity of the battle and seemed to have regrets. He is a good, honest man.”

Alexander nodded. “It is a man who rejoices in such death and destruction that you have to worry about. Sometimes it is necessary for empires or survival, but it should never be touted as something joyful.”

“Yet still we feast to our victory,” Bucky pointed out.

Alexander nodded, a glint in his parti-colored eyes of brown and blue. “Yes. Odd is it not? But I always feel it is a feast the gods would approve of, not just for our own. It’s a feast rejoicing in our living through the battle and in honor of those who did not. Not rejoicing in the loss of life and the bloodiness of it all.”

“Point taken,” conceded Bucky. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to rub down my horse, see where my tent is set up, bathe, change clothes and then visit Hephaestion and Ptolemy.”

“I must finish seeing to the men,” Alexander said, clapping Bucky on the arm. “Then I shall do the same. Make sure Hephaestion and Ptolemy stay out of mischief. I want them resting, not straining themselves. We have our next move to plan.”

“Yes, Alexander,” Bucky said, sketching a bow as Alexander turned away back to the hospital tents.

Bucky headed for the larger conglomeration of tents, keeping an eye out for his slave. Dramon should have his tent set up by now. Even if his bath was just a wash cloth and a pan of water, Bucky was looking forward in getting rid of the grime of battle. Perhaps he’d grab a flagon of wine on his way to look up on Hephaestion and Ptolemy. Start the party early, as it were, with two of his best friends.

* * *

Slaves and other servants had set up the tents. Steve found himself in a tent alone, as his tent partner did not survive the battle. It was disheartening, to be sure, but Steve was somewhat grateful that he would be able to sleep without the disrupting snores. He felt guilty for that feeling.

He had just finished rinsing the soap off his body and was contemplating something to eat when a messenger arrived looking for him.

“Are you Stephanos, son of Joseph?” asked the messenger.

“Yes,” Steve responded slowly, aware of eyes on him from every corner of the camp.

“You are requested to join a feast of victory with the King and his court this evening at nightfall. One of the pages will come to escort you.” The messenger looked appropriately awed by Steve’s honor in being invited to a victory feast with the king.

This was either Bucky or Antigonus’ doing, Steve would bet the not so small fortune he would one day inherit from his father. Perhaps even both. He sighed, nodded to the messenger with a wan smile and disappeared into his tent. He had nothing fine enough to wear to a feast with the king of Macedon. He’d brought only serviceable clothing as befitting a poor foot soldier in Alexander’s army.

He wondered if he could plead illness but dismissed it. He’d never been sick much once he’d hit puberty, though he’d been a sickly child. He used his combat training to defeat the myriad of illnesses that seemed to plague him more than other children.

He dug around in his packs for something suitable to wear, settling on a blue chiton and a yellow chalmys. It got chilly at night in the desert. On his long walk back to his tent after a night of partying he’ll be grateful for the extra warmth. He had no jewelry with him and didn’t wear much of it even when at home. 

Clothing decided upon and darkness at least an hour away, Steve laid down on his pallet to doze until it was time to get ready. He only hoped the evening’s festivities would not bring any embarrassment to him.


	3. Chapter 3

The pages in attendance had been sent for the various guests of honor, Bucky noted as he entered the large feast tent. Some of the men up for commendation had already arrived, looking out of place in a royal symposia tent. Bucky sympathized. His family were but poor goat herders, his mother a barbarian not dissimilar to Steve’s own background. He had no fancy, wealthy family to back him. Bucky’s skill with a horse, spear and sword had gotten the attention of some of Philip’s officers, bringing him to Macedon’s capital, Pella, for further training. His father had been so proud that his son was going to make something of himself. Now Bucky was a member of the king’s elite fighting force and nearly a Companion to boot. How far he’d come but he sympathized with these men all the same.

Steve, however, had not arrived yet and that disappointed Bucky. He wanted to flirt with Steve, see that blush cover the blond man’s fair features. He wanted to see if the attraction he felt for Steve was reciprocated. It had been awhile since Bucky’d had a lover and his immediate attraction to Steve left him wanting and needing.

Bucky had been teased unmercifully by both Hephaestion and Ptolemy this afternoon when he wouldn’t stop waxing poetic about Steve. It was no doubt deserved, as he apparently hadn’t shut up his entire visit to them. He had also dressed with care in his finest chiton, making sure his long hair crackled with cleanliness and life. He was attractive, he knew, but could he attract a god like Steve?

Hephaestion came in, dragging a limping Ptolemy with him and Bucky was momentarily distracted. “Sit down before you both fall down,” he ordered in exasperation.

“Yes, Father,” drawled Hephaestion cheekily.

“You’re worse than my mother,” groused Ptolemy but he didn’t argue as both Hephaestion and Bucky plopped him down on a couch. He stretched out his wounded leg with a wince. “Damned Persian dog, spearing me.”

“You sit too,” Bucky ordered Hephaestion. “I’ll not have Alexander yelling at you or me for letting you wander about with a wounded arm.”

Hephaestion rolled his eyes but seated himself on the edge of Ptolemy’s couch. He barely managed, Bucky noted, to suppress a wince. “Why are you both out of bed anyway?”

“We heard the mighty Stephanos was going to receive commendations tonight. The man has avoided praise since being discovered by Philip. We wanted to see history in action.” Hephaestion grinned as he spoke and Bucky was the one who rolled his eyes this time.

“Fools, both of you. If you pass out, I’m leaving you where you lay.” Both Hephaestion and Ptolemy gave him guileless looks. Bucky threw his hands up in exasperation and turned away, only to discover while he’d been distracted by his friends, Steve had arrived.

He looked absolutely edible. His blue chiton almost perfectly matched his eyes and the yellow chalmys around his shoulders complimented his now clean and burnished blond hair. Bucky made his way to Steve, heart thumping madly in his chest.

“Steve! You came!” he greeted cheerfully once he got close enough to speak.

Steve gave him an uncomfortable smile. “Why am I here?” he hissed, leaning in to whisper in Bucky’s ear. Bucky involuntarily shivered at Steve’s breath on his sensitive skin.

“For well-deserved praise,” Bucky told him loftily.

“I knew you’d do this,” Steve huffed in a put-upon manner.

“I wasn’t alone. Antigonus has had enough of your humble demeanor. Take the praise as your due, Steve,” Bucky advised in a more solemn manner. “Come, sit with me. I would like to get to know you better.” He leered a little bit and was gratified at the realization on Steve’s face and the blush upon his cheeks.

Bucky led Steve to an empty couch and the two men sat upon it. “We don’t dine until the king arrives,” Bucky told him in a low tone. “He’ll seat himself after greeting who he likes and then the slaves and servants will bring out the wine and food.”

Steve nodded tensely, obviously uncomfortable.

“Relax. You’re here as a guest of the king. Eat, drink, be merry!” cajoled Bucky. “There’s no insult intended with you being here. Accept any accolades coming your way as well-earned. I’ve told Alexander of your humble nature, that you don’t wish to be elevated in the ranks. He respects that.” Bucky gingerly placed a hand on Steve’s tense shoulder. “Relax.”

Steve shot him a dubious look but Bucky could feel the shoulder muscles relax just slightly.

A few moments later, the king arrived. The page guards clapped their spears against their shields to get the assembly’s attention and all eyes swiveled to where Alexander stood in the back entrance of the tent. “Be seated,” the king said with a happy smile. “So glad to see so many faces.”

Bucky whooped, which startled Steve. There were other whoops from some of the Companions in the crowd of feasters. Bucky nudged Steve in the side as slaves and servants appeared bearing wine goblets and flasks. Platters of tasty morsels made the rounds as well. Bucky leaned back on the couch and gave Steve an inviting smile to do the same. Steve did so, but with apparent reluctance.

“Does my admiration of you make you uncomfortable, Steve?” Bucky asked after a sip of watered-down wine.

Steve glanced at him and a blush suffused his face. Bucky could never tire of that. “A little,” Steve confessed. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had a lover.”

“Me as well. Despite my reputation I don’t sleep with anything that moves,” joked Bucky.

Steve gave him a half-hearted smile. “You’re beautiful enough to have your pick of men or women,” Steve told him.

“Perhaps when I was younger, I was less discriminatory,” Bucky mused, sloshing his wine around in its goblet. “Now I find that I want a connection other than just sex. I want to have something in common with the person I’m with. Things to talk about in the darkness.”

“You seem interested in me but know very little about me,” pointed out Steve, leaning back himself and relaxing more as the wine took hold.

Bucky nodded. “I know. But there’s something about you. It’s as if my heart knows you intimately, knew you the moment I saw you wielding that sword of yours like a man possessed. You were grace and beauty personified.” Bucky looked around and leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “Perhaps Achilles personified.”

Steve frowned at that. “I’m not that good.”

“On the contrary, you are breathtaking,” countered Bucky. “I knew I needed to know more about you. Indulge me, Steve, tell me about yourself. Do your parents still live? Do you have siblings? A wife left at home with a passel of brats? Who tutored you? Where in the west did your family come from?”

Steve was silent for a long moment, sipping his wine and nibbling at a pastry as he thought. “My parents live, my father still a wealthy merchant of cloth and spices. No brothers or sisters. I was a sickly child but grew out of it. My father hired fine tutors and combat masters to shore up my weak body but even he didn’t suspect that I would be a hoplite in Philip and Alexander’s armies.”

“And where you came from?”

“An island far to the west. My father was captured as a slave as was my mother when they were children. They were bought and sold across the land. My parents married as soon as they gained their freedom. By then my father had learned the merchant’s trade and had connections from his former masters. He came to Macedon with myself and my mother to start a new life. He’d heard Philip was a fair man. Philip treated us well.”

Bucky was entranced. To go from slavery to respectability was indeed an achievement. “You and your family should be proud,” he said in a frank manner that made Steve blush again.

Steve only shrugged uncomfortably. “We live as the gods will,” he simply replied.

Neither man realized they had an audience until Alexander spoke from behind them. “The gods have been generous to your family, Stephanos,” the king pronounced, startling both men into turning around in surprise. “I hope to be equally generous. I understand you acquitted yourself above and beyond on the field of battle today. I owe you a boon. Ask what you will.”

Steve cast an anxious look in Bucky’s direction but Bucky merely sipped his wine, keeping his expression cool and collected. He could not make this decision for Steve.

“I ask for nothing, my king,” Steve said finally, looking his king directly in the eyes, man to man. “At least not at this time. Perhaps in the future something will come to me.”

“Then I will hold your boon to be fulfilled at this later time then. Know that your bravery and skill is not unnoticed by me or my officers. I am appreciative of your loyalty and talents. Eat. Drink. Enjoy yourself. You have well-earned it.” Alexander clapped Steve manfully on the shoulders, bussed a kiss on each cheek in respect and honor and moved off to recognize the other guests.

Bucky couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at Steve’s incredulous look turned upon him. “Did he just give me the kiss of an equal?” demanded Steve, flabbergasted.

“Alexander knows worth, accepts it, and nurtures it,” Bucky told him. “Not unlike his father in that respect. Be careful, Steve, that you don’t find yourself an officer before you know it. God knows, if these battles continue across Persia, we may need every able-bodied man in a position of responsibility sooner rather than later.”

Steve sipped his wine and said nothing, a thoughtful look on his face. Finally, he turned back to Bucky and said, “Tell me about yourself, Buchanan? What is a lordling such as yourself doing in the cavalry? And where did the name Buchanan come from? It is not Hellenic.”

Bucky then proceeded to regale Steve with stories of his family and the goatherds in the high hills of Macedon, his training in the salles of Pella, being tutored by the clever and impossibly intelligent Aristotle with Alexander and many of the prince’s closest friends and companions, and his exploits in the competition arena as a runner. “I’m not as fast as Alexander, who runs like a deer chased by a hunter, but I’ve won a few competitions,” Bucky said with false modesty.

Steve laughed, as he was meant to do. If Bucky could get Steve to laugh all night, it would be time well spent. His eyes sparkled like sapphires in the torch and oil lamp light. His skin was burnished gold. Bucky wanted nothing more than to kiss the other man but was still unsure of the reception of such a move. It was best to treat Steve like a horse he wanted to tame: no sudden movements, offer kind words and praise, and have a gentle hand. Then Bucky was sure he would be rewarded beyond his wildest imaginings. If Steve fucked the way he fought, it would be a glorious time in bed.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve entered the court tent area, answering calls of greeting with a wave of his hand. He and Bucky had made plans to dine together this evening and Steve was looking forward to telling Bucky about his day. It was nice to have someone to share things with. Steve didn’t have many friends growing up and even now as an adult and a soldier he had few people he could confide and joke around with.

He approached Bucky’s tent yet saw no servants or slaves milling about, getting things ready for an evening meal. He frowned. That was odd. Though dusk was falling there seemed to be no lights within Bucky’s tent either.

“Bucky?” he called as he approached his lover’s blue and gold tent. There was no answer and Bucky didn’t exit. Was he not there?

Feeling guilty for entering Bucky’s tent when he wasn’t there, Steve swept aside the door and stepped into the dimness within. He immediately tripped over something, something soft yet unmoving. He fell, arms outstretched to break his fall, and landed hard on his knees, wincing. He rolled over and stared in horror at the body laying unmoving on the ground before the door

“Bucky?” he shouted frantically, shuffling over to the body and rolling it over. In what little light was filtering into the tent he could just make out Bucky’s features, slack and seeming dead. Steve’s heart clenched. “No, no, no!” he chanted. He lifted Bucky into his lap and his hand smeared into blood on the back of Bucky’s head. “Glorious Gods, please don’t let my Bucky be dead!” he prayed. Unsure what to do he pitched his voice into a battlefield shout, designed to be heard over the din of fighting and screams. “Help! Lord Buchanan’s been attacked! Help!”

He heard frantic footsteps approach and a slave popped his head in. “Sir, what-“ The slave glanced at Steve holding Bucky in his arms, the other man seeming dead, and blanched.

“Fetch Lord Ptolemy or Perdikkas immediately,” ordered Steve. “Tell them Lord Buchanan has been attacked in his tent and to bring a physician.”

“Yes sir,” the slave said and vanished, leaving Steve in the semi-darkness with what he hoped was an unconscious Bucky, not a dead one.

Steve placed a shaking hand over Bucky’s mouth, hoping to feel breath and sagged with relief when his palm warmed with it. He was alive! Steve slipped Bucky into his arms and staggered beneath the other man’s not inconsiderable weight to get to his feet. There he crossed the tent to the bed, which he could barely make out, and lay Bucky upon it, gentle with his head, where the injury seemed to be.

There was shouting and more footsteps, the tent flap ripped open to reveal a panicked Ptolemy. “Light the lamps,” ordered Ptolemy to Steve, who nodded as Ptolemy approached the injured man quickly. Steve lit three of them and brought them all around Bucky’s bed for better ability to see the injuries.

A physician pushed through the gathering crowd, with Perdikkas right behind him. Ptolemy drew Steve aside to allow the physician room to work. “What happened?” the older man demanded.

Steve took a shaky breath, unable to remove his eyes from Bucky’s frighteningly still form. “We were supposed to dine tonight. I tripped over his body when I entered. All was dark, I couldn’t see except by what little sunlight filtered through. There is blood,” he lifted his blood smeared hand that had cradled Bucky’s head.

“You saw no one exit the tent as you arrived?” Ptolemy asked with a deep frown.

Steve shook his head, taking a deep, calming breath. “No, no slaves or servant or anyone around the tent at all.”

Ptolemy’s frown deepened and he traded a speaking glance with Perdikkas. “Steve,” Perdikkas began and then hesitated, as if unsure what to reveal. “Bucky is doing some investigating for Alexander.”

“I know, he told me last night,” Steve said distractedly, watching as the physician dabbled a wet cloth on the back of Bucky’s head, wiping away the blood matted in his long, brown hair.

“Oh good, though he shouldn’t have done that,” Perdikkas muttered almost to himself.

“You know Bucky would keep no secrets from Steve,” admonished Ptolemy. “He thinks the sun rises and sets on Steve.”

Steve flushed at the implication but said nothing, focused entirely on the physician and Bucky’s still form. Perdikkas merely huffed a sigh and all three men turned to the physician, who was straightening from his bent position over Bucky.

“My lords,” the physician said heavily. “Lord Buchanan was struck from behind. He sleeps from the blow and will likely be surly and have a headache when he awakens but he has no other injuries.”

“He will live?” asked Ptolemy solemnly.

“Til the gods deem him to leave this earthly plane for Hades, yes. As I recall, Lord Buchanan is an abominable patient so I do not envy whoever is with him upon waking. He will recover and be fine, however.” The physician handed Perdikkas a jar of powder. “Mix that with wine when he awakens. It will dull the ache in his head somewhat, but not completely. Treat him as if he is hung over, speak softly and don’t let him make quick movements, as he will be unsteady.”

Perdikkas handed the small jar to Steve. “He belongs to you now. You get to play nursemaid.”

Steve took it and gave the physician a grateful smile. “Thank you,” he said with heartfelt relief. The physician patted Steve paternally on the arm and shuffled away, back through the tent flap and into the crowd beyond.

Perdikkas turned to Ptolemy and pitched his voice where none outside could hear. “You know this means he found something that someone wants kept quiet. He was hunting a slave who had laid a false trail earlier today.”

“You think this slave attacked him?” gasped Steve, eyes wide.

Perdikkas turned to him. “We don’t think she was a slave. We think she’s a Tyrian woman doing the bidding of her masters on that damned island. We had everyone on the lookout for her. It seems she was waiting for Bucky to enter his tent so she could attack him.”

“Who is this woman?” demanded Steve.

“Oh no, don’t you go off half-baked,” Ptolemy growled. “You let us handle this so-called slave and assassin. You take care of Bucky. Once he’s back on his feet he has more questions to find answers too. And you need to be focused on your floating battering rams.” Ptolemy patted Steve on the back in a friendly manner to take the sting from his orders. “The physician is right, Bucky is a terrible patient. You’ll have your hands full this night and he’ll be a bear come morning light.”

“We’ll bring food ourselves from the common kitchen for the both of you, wine as well,” Perdikkas added, heading for the tent’s exit. Ptolemy followed. “Be at peace, Steve, he is fine or will be anyway.”

Left alone with Bucky’s still form, Steve sagged into Bucky’s wooden desk chair. The fear he’d felt at seeing Bucky laying so helpless on the ground was still roiling within him, though tapering off, leaving him strangely lethargic. He settled his gaze on Bucky’s prone body and slack features, glad beyond all belief it was just a bloody bump on the head and not a fatal stab wound.

It took two hours, and a delivery of victuals and wine, before Bucky groaned his way into consciousness. Steve was ready with the drugged wine, lifting Bucky enough to get him to drink some. It must have been foul-tasting for Bucky grimaced.

“What happened?” he croaked, squinting in the light at Steve.

“Someone attacked you in your own tent. I tripped over you when I entered for dinner,” Steve reported.

Bucky grumbled something Steve didn’t catch and then sighed heavily. “Did anyone see anything?”

“No, no one and there was no one about your tent when I arrived, which I thought odd,” Steve told him, gently setting Bucky back down amongst his pillows and blankets. “You will be weak and seeming hung over for a while. Do you want some food? Ptolemy brought it from the communal kitchens to guarantee it wasn’t tampered with.”

Bucky frowned but nodded weakly. “I could manage a few bites of something but I’m not very hungry.” He grimaced again and smacked his mouth as if tasting something. “What was in that wine? It was foul.”

“Medicine for the headache you undoubtedly have,” Steve told him with a relieved smile. If Bucky could complain he would be all right. Bucky made a face but ate some of the brown bread and cold meats supplied by Ptolemy.

Their hunger slated, Steve snuggled up next to Bucky, pulling the smaller but no less muscular man in his arms. “I thought you were dead,” confessed Steve, allowing the fear he felt in that moment color his words.

Bucky tensed. “And would you have been sorry?” he asked tentatively.

“Devastated,” Steve replied, holding Bucky tighter for a moment. “You have come to mean so much to me. You make me laugh, you make me love, you push me to be more than what I was content to be.”

Bucky seemed to think about this a moment. “I love you, Steve,” he simply said instead.

Steve’s heart swelled at the words. “And I you, Buchanan, my Bucky.”

They settled into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve had three engineers and more volunteer laborers for his floating battering ram plan than he knew what to do with. The engineers, highly trained and recommended by Antigonus and Bucky, were brothers: Karan, Nicos and Tassos. They were Athenian by birth but raised in Corinth by a merchant father. They studied with the finest of tutors and discovered they had an aptitude for all things mechanical and architectural. They weren’t triplets, though they looked it, each coming up to Steve’s shoulder and sporting long blond hair similar to Steve’s, blue eyes and trim athletic builds. They were young but everyone who wasn’t a fighter seemed young to Steve. Battle, he realized, aged a man.

Karan unrolled a large papyri and weighted the corners with rocks. He whipped a lead stylus from behind his ear and began to scratch at the plant-fiber paper. “We could-“ he said but was interrupted by Tassos.

“No, how about-“ Tassos took the lead stylus from his brother and began sketching something completely different.

“That won’t work. We need-“ Nicos nudged his brother aside, took his own lead stylus and began to sketch instead.

Steve sighed. Great. Either they finished each other’s sentences or never finished one at all.

Karan glanced at Steve a bit guiltily. “We’ve been talking about this,” he offered.

“Since we got word we were selected to assist you in your plan,” continued Nicos, ceasing his sketching to look up at his new commander.

“We skipped breakfast,” added Tassos, looking a bit guilty.

Steve exchanged a glance with the workmen’s foreman, who merely shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ gesture. “Come, we need to talk before we start planning. We’ll eat and discuss, then start sketching. We have time.”

“Not that much time,” Tessos objected.

“The king will be back before we know it!” exclaimed Nicos excitedly.

Karan seemed graver. “The causeway will be attacked before we get finished if we take too long.”

Steve sighed and wondered if Bucky was having a better morning. He was beginning to wish he’d just kept his mouth shut last night and not volunteered anything. 

He led the three young men to his tent and scrounged up some dried fruit to break everyone’s fast. Though Steve had eaten breakfast, he figured he would need the fortification with these three eager young men and ate some more. He listened as the three engineers discussed ideas, arguing amongst themselves.

Once the last of the watered wine was consumed, Steve halted the arguing with a raised hand. Three sets of blue eyes stared expectantly at him. “If it floats, how do we stabilize the battering ram so that once it makes contact with the wall it doesn’t just push away?”

There was more debate between the brothers and finally an argument was made for a large platform not easily pushed even by the weight of the maneuvering ram. The battering ram itself would be on a swing, not carried by men.

“How many can we make?” asked Steve.

This created a small storm of debate but it was decided that they could build their design as many times as needed until Alexander arrived with the fleet. So, a lot, Steve surmised to himself.

“The walls are thick, we need to find the right trees fell to break through Tyre’s ramparts, plus the bronze to cap it with for added strength,” Steve mused.

Tassos nodded enthusiastically. “Easily done,” he said with a grin.

“Very well, let’s get back to that papyri. I want to see some designs, a variety of them. We’ll try out smaller versions on mock up walls before we waste resources and man power on the full-scale. We have no room for error. Time is not on our side,” Steve told them gravely.

The three brothers returned his gravity with excited whoops as they rushed pell-mell back to the papyri, lead styluses in hand.

Steve sighed heavily and hoped once again Bucky was having a better morning than he was.

* * *

Bucky wasn’t having a better morning than Steve, it turned out. His interviews of the slaves and servants turned up little. Either they were consummate liars or they were blind as bats, for no one saw anything untoward in the cooking tents that would lead anyone to suspect the king’s food to be poisoned. Bucky sent a warning to Alexander before the king departed to eat nothing that wasn’t from a communal kitchen no matter where he went. Eat no private dishes, only those for general consumption. Bucky figured if someone wanted to kill the king on this trip, it wouldn’t be by poison. They would have to make enough poison to kill the entire city of Sidon with him.

Ptolemy watched Bucky wander the camp, grabbing a slave here and there for interrogation. The man’s watchful presence made Bucky want to smack him and ask if he had something better to do. Rumors had abounded for years that Ptolemy was an illegitimate by-blow of Philip’s. No one had seen fit to confirm or deny the rumor and Bucky didn’t think even Ptolemy knew for sure if it was true or not. Despite possibly being a contender for the throne, Alexander treated Ptolemy like a close friend and ally. Ptolemy, in turn, treated Alexander like the little brother done good. Bucky had never heard of Olympias, Alexander’s mother, treating Ptolemy any differently, so maybe there was no truth to the rumor. Ptolemy didn’t lust for power the way some men did so perhaps it didn’t matter to Alexander if the older man was a half-brother or not.

“What?” Bucky finally snapped, unable to handle Ptolemy’s watchful gaze.

“Just watching, learning.”

“It’s irritating and putting off any witnesses,” Bucky said with a scowl.

Ptolemy gave a grin and insouciant shrug. “It’s not like I have much to do. The causeway work is a well-oiled machine by this point. Alexander didn’t want me along to go back to Sidon. So, pestering you is all I’ve got left to do.”

Bucky sighed. “Pissant,” he said without rancor.

“Footsoldier’s bottom,” rejoined Ptolemy with a laugh.

“How do you know I bottom?” Bucky asked indignantly.

Ptolemy pitched his voice to sound like Bucky’s. “Oh there, Steve, it makes me come! I want you inside me, Steve, now!”

Bucky flushed in embarrassment. He thought they’d been discreet. “I don’t say that,” he said waspishly.

“The hell you don’t,” chuckled Ptolemy. “Loudly and repeatedly, my friend.” Ptolemy’s face became serious. “Steve is very taken with you, you know.”

Bucky gave Ptolemy an uncertain look. “How do you know?” And how did Ptolemy know of Bucky’s uncertainty regarding Steve’s affections?

“Perdikkas and I confronted him the other night,” Ptolemy confessed with no shame. At Bucky’s indignant huff, Ptolemy raised his hands in placation. “You’re a friend!” he protested. “I wanted to make sure this hoplite wasn’t using you to rise through the ranks.”

“I’ll have you know I seduced him,” Bucky told his older friend archly. “And he was rather dense about it too.”

Ptolemy hooted. “Those boys that march, sometimes I wonder if they’ve cooked their brains in their helmets.” His expression turned sly. “Is he as good in bed as your moaning and groaning implies?”

Bucky blushed again and huffed in exasperation. “Nosy.”

“Just answer the question.”

“Why so interested in my sex life? Thais throw you over for a younger man?” Bucky teased.

Ptolemy, though, was like a dog with a bone. “Is he?”

Bucky gave in, knowing Ptolemy wouldn’t give up until he got an answer. “Yes, he is. Now go away.”

Ptolemy chuckled. “About time you got someone in your bed worth a damn. Damon was useless. Pretty but useless.”

Reminded of his last lover, killed at the battle of Thebes, Bucky’s expression darkened. “Don’t talk about the dead like that,” he snapped.

Ptolemy gave him a long look. “I’m right and you know it. Damon was nice to look at but there wasn’t a whole lot going on between his ears. It puzzled every damned one of us when you first took him as a lover. Even more puzzled when he remained that way.”

Bucky sighed. “We didn’t talk much,” he muttered.

Ptolemy heard and gave a hearty laugh. “But you talk to Steve,” he wheedled. “Sometimes he never goes back to his tent until morning. Unless his lovemaking knocks you unconscious, you don’t fuck and sleep the whole time. He must have something interesting to say.”

Bucky gave a derisive sniff at that. “Steve is very well educated. His father hired fine tutors,” he said snobbishly.

“Good in the sack and with a brain in his head.” Ptolemy shook his head in wonder. “You know, sometimes I wonder what Alexander sees in Hephaestion but then Hephaestion opens his mouth and I go ‘oh yeah, there’s a brain behind that pretty face’. Steve’s like that, I guess?”

Bucky paused and turned to Ptolemy. “Steve’s idea for a floating battering ram is a good one. I know it sounds cockamamie but Alexander thought it a good one to explore. Is that what’s got you riled up about Steve?”

Ptolemy stopped as well and looked at his fellow companion seriously. “No. I worry about your heart, my friend. He’s in a dangerous position in the army. Footsoldiers have a short life expectancy. Antigonus sings Steve’s praises yet despairs of getting him to rise through the ranks as befits his skills and leadership ability. You’re falling in love with a tragedy and I don’t relish picking up the pieces of your life should Steve fall somewhere in Persia or Egypt.”

Bucky relaxed. “I’m working on it,” he assured Ptolemy. “I’m slowly wearing Steve down. He’ll never be cavalry, but I want him in a place of power and protection more than anyone.”

Ptolemy gave a nod, glad that Bucky understood his concern. “Good. Just wanted to make sure. We’re glad he’s making you so happy but we’re afraid of the consequences too.”

Bucky relaxed and impulsively hugged his old friend. “I thank you for your concern. Now get lost. I’ve got work to do.”

Ptolemy hugged him back, slapped him on the ass playfully and did as he was bid, marching away whistling a bawdy tune. Bucky watched him go with a grin on his face but quickly turned his attention back to the problem at hand.

He’d not been entirely honest with Steve last night about his investigations into the death of Alexander’s father. There had been a conspiracy, one that had almost killed Bucky to reveal. Alexander dealt with the players in a ruthless but secretive manner. Those of the pages and soldiers involved in Pausanias’ murder of Philip simply disappeared. They were the disaffected, the troublemakers and no one missed them enough to ask questions about where they’d gone. Bucky still occasionally had nightmares of the burning, crucified men deep in the mountain forests of Macedon. Only he, Alexander, Hephaestion, and Bucky’s father knew of what happen to those six men. The only reason Bucky’s father knew was because they used Bucky’s father’s land for where they meted out the punishment. In return, Bucky had been raised in ranks, as was his family. Blood money, in effect, but Bucky found that he didn’t mind that. It was Alexander’s right to avenge his father and ensure that Philip’s fate didn’t happen to him. It wasn’t the cruelty of the punishment. If had been Bucky’s father, Bucky would have taken a leaf from Achilles and drug the perpetrators by their heels behind a chariot for many miles.

No, what chilled Bucky to the bones was the screams of the still living men when Alexander himself set a torch to the crucifixes. The smell of the burning flesh, hair, and clothes. And then burying the remains and spitting upon the graves in a final insult. Perhaps it was a curse one of the dying men put upon them, Bucky didn’t know, but he often wanted to ask Alexander if he regretted his revenge, if he too sometimes had trouble sleeping at night. Bucky didn’t dare ask, afraid to know the answer.

Macedonian kings were hard. Many died by the hands of their relatives or court intrigue. Few died in battle and fewer died of old age in their beds. Alexander learned his lessons about kingship the way all Macedonian rulers did: by living it.

Now someone threatened his friend. Alexander’s enemies were great, both near and far. Anyone could be responsible: an assassin from Athens, a displaced Theban out for revenge for the destruction of their city, an agent sent from the king of Persia, or even a soldier or slave within Alexander’s army feeling slighted or misused. Kings, Bucky ruminated to himself, had enemies everywhere. He wondered how Alexander got a good night’s rest.

He continued his interviews and picked up one interesting tidbit. A slave named Dru saw a suspicious man approaching the cooking tents right before the lunch hour. He was dressed in breeches, like a Persian, but they were ragged and worn. She thought him perhaps another slave, taken prisoner and forced to labor. Dru had not seen the man since.

No one else though recalled seeing the man in rough Persian dress anywhere in camp. By the time Bucky circled back to speak with Dru again, the slave was gone like smoke. Bucky smiled grimly to himself. The slave spoke rough Greek and had blinked in surprise when Bucky reverted first to Persian and then to Phoenician. 

“Only an Athenian or woman would think to use poison,” snorted Bucky, heading toward Perdikkas’ tent.

Dru had been a woman. Probably a Tyrian woman at that. Many wouldn’t suspect a slave woman as an assassin but Bucky kept an open mind. He’d grown up with three sisters, he knew the ruthlessness of the breed, knew how vicious they could indeed be, especially against those they felt hurt them or those they cared for.

Bucky swiped open Perdikkas’ door and entered. Perdikkas looked up in surprise from his writing desk. “You found something,” he noted gravely, taking in Bucky’s countenance.

“Likely a Tyrian woman, posing as a slave named Dru,” Bucky reported. “No one has seen her in the last two hours.”

Perdikkas sat back in his camp chair, chewing on his lower lip in thought. “What’s your plan?”

“If she’s gone back to the city, not much we can do,” shrugged Bucky.

“But you don’t think she has,” concluded Perdikkas.

“No. The Tyrians likely know Alexander has left camp by now, assuming any of their spies have made it to the island. Having an assassin in camp now is pointless. Since she’s a woman, they’ll either leave her to her own devices or hide her away behind their walls, assuming she can get there.”

Perdikkas nodded. “Doesn’t answer my question. What’s your plan?”

Bucky shrugged. “Keep hunting. She couldn’t have worked alone.”

“She could have. Women are far from weak and helpless as we men like to postulate,” Perdikkas noted, “and you’re right, she could have escaped back to the island by now. I don’t think so. She may just be one of a hundred slaves wandering around, unknowing that you’re on to her. Keep an ear out, tell those we trust to keep an eye out for her and take her into custody if they see her.”

“Better plan than the one I didn’t have,” joked Bucky.

Perdikkas’ brown eyes glinted in humor. “I’m sure you’d have thought of something.”

“Yes, I suppose I would have.” Bucky gave his friend a terse nod of farewell and exited the tent.

He headed for his own some distance on the opposite side, entered and staggered when something struck his head, sending him into blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More than likely there was no conspiracy to kill Alexander's father, Philip II of Macedon. Most historians agree with the ancient histories, Pausanias acted alone, perhaps goaded by friends at the most. As to what happened to the man holding the getaway horses, we will likely never know. For those who don't know, Philip was killed at a big parade/to do during his daughter's wedding to his brother-in-law (yes, her uncle) by a man that was one of his private guards, which is how he got so close. The reasons for Pausanias' grievances are many and convoluted. Pausanias stabbed his king in the heart and ran from the auditorium, but tripped over a root on his way to his getaway. The other guards caught up to him and stabbed him to death in retribution. And from then on the conspiracy theories abounded.


	6. Chapter 6

Tyre was a stubborn bitch, Steve decided. The causeway took some time, moving rocks and dirt to the small channel between island and mainland. As the engineers and laborers approached the city walls with the causeway, hot sand, sling shot bolts and arrows rained upon them. Soon there were soldiers with long shields blocking overhead for the laborers. It was hard for anyone to maneuver and get anything done with the extra bodies. It was either that, though, or a high death count.

Despite the ingenuity of the plan, it wasn’t entirely working. The Tyrians had sent envoys to Alexander with false promises and outright lies but the wily young king listened to them not at all. However, all now knew that without a navy at his disposal Alexander might have to concede defeat at Tyre. That was something Steve knew, having become acquainted with Alexander, the king would not do. To leave Tyre alone invited an enemy on the supply line, inciting rebellion from those who’d previously capitulated to Alexander’s forces. Where the king planned to go next Steve couldn’t say but Bucky speculated Giza and perhaps Egypt.

“He’s going to let the Great Persian King sweat,” Bucky said knowingly.

Egypt made sense, tactically. A great grain producer, having Egypt’s resources at his beck and call would only make Alexander harder to defeat. Egypt had also been subservient to Persia for many years. To lose Egypt to some upstart from Greece would be another black eye to Persia’s reputation as a great empire. It would also solidify Alexander’s worth in the eyes of the skeptical, if somewhat cowed, Greek city-states like Athens and Corinth.

Besides, Steve thought cynically, I think Alexander rather fancies calling himself Pharaoh. Then he felt bad for the thought. Alexander was brilliant, like his father, personable and generous to all his men. How often had Alexander refused the riches earned in battle and instead gave them to lesser men? How often had Alexander been wounded alongside his soldiers, or gotten ill on campaign? Alexander was prevalent on the battlefield, no matter if it was large scale or small skirmish. Like his father, he fought side by side with his men, instead of sitting at a distance, protected and safe, like the Persian King, Darius.

Steve pondered his cynicism and guilt as he marched to replace another soldier guarding a laborer digging near the ramparts of Tyre. It was an arduous task, one that Bucky begged Steve not to take, not to risk. Steve, however, was determined to protect those who were doing all the gritty dangerous work, with his own life if needs be.

Bucky even recruited Lords Perdikkas and Ptolemy into getting Steve away from the trenches around Tyre. Just last night, Steve had been ambushed on his way from making Bucky a puddle of mush in his luxurious bed.

“Ho, Steve!” Lord Ptolemy called out as Steve groggily stumbled his way out of Bucky’s tent.

Steve paused his steps and gave a small bow to the two men approaching him. “Good evening, my lords,” he said softly as they came closer.

He’d never had much to do with Perdikkas, a solemn man, but he’d spoken several times with Ptolemy, who was more jovial than most of his companions. Bucky said drily that it was because Ptolemy was getting laid more often, having brought his hetaira, or courtesan, Thais, with him on this campaign.

“Do you go down the line tomorrow with your shield?” asked Ptolemy, slapping Steve congenially on the back.

“I do. It’s my job,” Steve had replied, wondering what this was about.

“Our Bucky would be heartbroken if some lucky Tyrian shoots you through the heart,” Perdikkas remarked, looking Steve up and down loftily.

“I would be sorry to die but I do it for my king,” Steve answered.

Ptolemy barked a laugh. “Alexander would be sorry to lose you as well. Not many men in your position with your brains and skills, you know.”

“Those men digging and carrying dirt and rocks are risking their lives for the king,” Steve told them, keeping his temper despite wanting to shout at them the words he was speaking. “The least I can do is make sure most of them live.”

Perdikkas regarded him for a long, silent minute while Ptolemy fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot. “I see.”

“Do you?” asked Steve pointedly.

White teeth flashed in the moonlight as Perdikkas smiled wolfishly at him. “I do. You are a man of honor, a rare breed these days, Steve. Do as you need to fulfill that honor. I’ll tell the rest of them to leave you alone.”

Ptolemy shot Perdikkas a sharp look and opened his mouth to make some remark, but Perdikkas slapped a hand over Ptolemy’s mouth to stop him. 

“I would appreciate it,” Steve told the higher-ranking man sincerely. “I do enough trying to reassure Bucky that I know what I’m about and that I’m careful.”

Perdikkas gave a chuckle. “He’s a worrywart, much like Hephaestion. They both worry about everything. Is Steve eating properly? Is Alexander brooding too much? Peas in a pod, the both of them.” Perdikkas glanced toward Bucky’s tent, where it was obvious Steve had just left. “I take he’s satiated for the night?”

Steve gave an arrogant grin that he couldn’t help. “Sleeping like a baby,” he confirmed.

Ptolemy pried Perdikkas’ hand from his face and chortled. “Keep him like that, you’ll have more peace.”

Steve felt a moment of hot jealousy. “Speaking from experience?” he asked in a curt tone.

Ptolemy looked taken aback. “Gods no. Men do nothing for me, sexually, Steve. I prefer curves and soft skin, long flowing hair and kohled eyes.” He flashed a smile. “I just know that when Bucky’s occupied with love, he’s less trouble.”

“He’s done this before?” Steve felt a stone drop into his stomach. Was his initial thoughts of Bucky’s interest right? Was he just a fly by night affair for Bucky?

Perdikkas rolled his eyes at Ptolemy and punched him in the shoulder, hard. Ptolemy squawked and rubbed the offended area vigorously. “Not since we left Greece has Bucky had an affair with anyone that I know of. He’s pretty discreet, usually, so his blatant chasing of you has us all amused. He’s quite smitten with you, Steve,” Perdikkas teased, more at ease with the foot soldier than he’d been previously.

Steve relaxed at the words, his fear and doubt reassured. “Oh good, I thought perhaps he toyed with me,” he breathed softly, despite himself.

“Bucky toys with no one,” Ptolemy told him seriously. “A more honest man, other than you of course, will you ever find. His affections are true and, I believe, deep. Rest assured, Steve, Bucky feels quite deeply for you. In fact, he never shuts up about you,” he added with a grin.

Reassured even further, Steve couldn’t help but give a relieved smile at the other two men. “I am glad then that my affections are honestly returned.”

The two upper ranked men watched as Steve absorbed the information imparted and, sensing that their entreaties for Steve to not risk his life defending the causeway was lost, took their leave of Steve to return to his own tent.

A shower of arrows and slingshot bolts rained upon Steve’s head, bringing him from his reverie to the matter at hand. An unprotected laborer fell beneath the onslaught but there was nothing Steve could do to save the man. He was dead with numerous arrows sticking from him.

“Damn these Tyrians!” cursed the laborer Steve protected. “May Alexander flay the skin from their bodies!”

Steve said nothing. Likely Tyre would be shown no mercy once defeated, to show the ruthlessness of Macedon’s king and the consequences of defiance. He felt a bit sorry for them, in truth. The Tyrians had sworn loyalty to the Persian king, Darius. To renege on that loyalty would make their other fealties suspect. If they could betray one ruler, who was to say they wouldn’t betray another?

The afternoon passed with Steve’s arms growing tired from holding up his bronze shield in the hot coastal sun. Though it offered shade, the sun beating down upon the metal made the shade questionable. The occasional attacks from above also stressed his mind and body. Finally, he was relieved to see the laborers ending for the day and making their way back to camp on the mainland.

He, and his charge, had survived another day.

Bucky was waiting at Steve’s tent when he arrived, a bundle of cloth in his hands. “You look tired,” Bucky remarked. “Come.”

Steve followed Bucky, not caring where they went, his back sore and bones aching. Bucky led Steve to the thin river that fed into the ocean. There Bucky rubbed the grit and grime from Steve’s body, detached and clinical, as if for a friend rather than a lover. That disconcerted Steve, used to feeling Bucky’s hand caress him in passion.

Bucky laid Steve out naked on the green grass and rubbed him down with a soft, dry cloth. Then, just as Steve was drowsy and ready for a nap, hauled Steve up to his feet and dressed him in the finest linen chiton of light blue and strapped his feet into leather sandals that wrapped around his ankle. A torque of gold went around Steve’s neck, over the blond’s protests. Bucky stood back once Steve was dressed and gave a curt nod.

“Better,” was all he said before motioning with his head for Steve to follow.

Perplexed as to why he had on new clothes and ornamentation, Steve followed without a word, back into camp and toward where the royal court’s tents were set up. They entered the main feast tent and Steve tensed. He’d not been in the symposia tent since Granicus, gently refusing the honor no matter who offered it.

“Bucky, I don’t belong here,” Steve hissed in the shorter brunette’s ear as they waited for one of the pages to announce them. Darkness was falling and Steve, despite the bath and the rubdown, was hungry, tired and in no mood to play niceties.

“Alexander himself asks for you,” Bucky told him. 

Steve blinked in surprise but subsided his protests. The king sent Bucky for Steve. No, he could not refuse. “Very well,” he replied and waited patiently. The page who’d gone inside returned and motioned Bucky and Steve to enter.

It wasn’t a symposia tent tonight. It was a war council. Generals and nobles of rank filled the roomy tent. Steve felt immediately out of place and edged closer to Bucky with some insecurity. He was just a foot soldier. What was he doing here?

Antigonus spotted them and crowed, “Steve!” motioning the blond over to him. Steve glanced at Bucky, who was expressionless, and moved to the aging Macedonian general. “Glad the young whelp took my advice, including you in this,” Antigonus told Steve when Steve settled beside him.

“I’m sorry, sir, what?”

Antigonus snorted. “You know the men better than even I, are a good judge of character and know the skills and flaws of your fellow soldiers. I told Alexander that I would appreciate your input in his latest scheme.”

Steve felt like the ground was moving beneath him. Antigonus had recommended Steve for a war council? “Sir, I’m just a –“ he began but Antigonus slashed a hand through the air in a gesture of silence.

“I’ve heard you discussing battle plans and strategy with the others when you think no one important is nearby. I’ve seen you in action on the battlefield. Silence your protests, boy! You’re not fooling me.” Antigonus gave Steve a fond if fierce look of admiration. “Speak your mind to the king, he’ll appreciate it. Answer the questions put to you, offer your opinion if you feel comfortable. But don’t give me this ‘I’m just a common soldier’ garbage.”

Steve swallowed his protests and gave one terse nod of acquiescence. There was a mill of noise at one end of the tent and Alexander entered, with Ptolemy and Perdikkas hot on his heels. “Excellent, everyone came,” Alexander exclaimed, clapping his hands once to get everyone’s attention. The crowd stopped their conversations and turned to their king and general. “Hephaestion has sent word of the fleet. We have one. Around a hundred and twenty ships. I take a small contingent back to Sidon, will rendezvous with Hephaestion and come back with the fleet to Tyre.”

There was a general murmur of amazement and jubilance. Steve closed his eyes. Perhaps this meant the fight with Tyre would soon be over and the common laborers and slaves’ lives would no longer be in jeopardy day after day.

“I asked for this war council to decide how the land portion of the attack once I arrive with the fleet will go.” Alexander looked around the assembled men expectantly.

Steve swallowed and stepped forward. He had an idea.

Alexander’s parti-colored gaze rested on him and he nodded once. “Stephanos, son of Joseph, you have something to say?”

“Floating battering rams.”

Alexander and several others blinked in surprise. “What?” Alexander rasped.

“Battering rams that float. Getting the causeway up to the walls is damned near impossible and not without great loss of life,” Steve explained. “Once you have brought the navy here, you can blockade both their harbors on the Egyptian and Sidonian sides. Make floating yet stable battering rams to breach weak sections of the wall to allow us in.”

There was silence as everyone thought Steve’s words over. Then Alexander’s smile, like sunshine on a cloudy day, burst forth and he gave a hoot of triumph. “Antigonus was right about you!” he crowed, stepping up to Steve and throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders. The king was short, much shorter than Steve, who towered over him by at least several inches. “You will see to these floating battering rams. Assemble whatever engineers and men you like for your team to see that they are complete by the time I return from Sidon,” the king ordered, brown and blue eyes alight with manic glee.

Steve nodded, glanced at Antigonus, who was grinning at him as well, and stepped back beside the aged general. He’d done as was asked, he’d spoken his opinion and found it considered and approved. He would now do as he was assigned, assemble a team of workers and engineers to make his idea possible.

He searched the crowd of men for Bucky and found him by the entrance, staring at Steve with a brooding expression. Steve raised an inquiring eyebrow but Bucky just shook his head as if to say ‘not here, not now’. Steve had never seen Bucky so stern, stoic and serious. Did Bucky disapprove of Steve’s attendance here?

Talk turned to naval techniques, nothing Steve knew about, and instead Steve studied the men around him. Most were Macedonian, though a few Hellenic Greeks were present. There was even a Phoenician, probably from Sidon, present.

Steve people-watched as the talk grew heated, marking the hotheads versus those of a cooler disposition. He was brought from his ruminations by Antigonus declaring loudly, “Steve can give a better accounting of the mood of the men than I can!”

Steve inwardly grimaced but stepped forward again when Antigonus motioned imperiously at him. Alexander and his war council looked expectantly at him. Steve swallowed and said, “The men are tired, my lords. The laborers and slaves are ill-used and restless. The work on the causeway is hard and we are constantly on alert for mischief from the Tyrians, such as the burning fleet they sent sometime ago. It drains the men of energy quickly and by the end of the day they are dead on their feet. A hard march is nothing compared to this.”

“Are they angry with me for this siege?” Alexander asked, looking Steve in the eye.

Steve shook his head. “No, I’ve heard nothing like that. At first there were grumblings to just leave them to their island fortress, sacrifice at Old Tyre’s temples, and be done with it. Now, they are taking the Tyrians defiance as a personal affront. News of the fleet will be encouraging to them, I think.”

Alexander pursed his lips as he thought. “I will send out heralds to all corners of the camp in the morning before the work detail goes to the causeway, announcing the fleet,” but he stopped when Steve shook his head in a frantic ‘no’. “You disagree with this?”

“No doubt the Tyrians have spies amongst us. To announce the fleet would be to shake off our advantage with it. We want the Tyrians to be intimidated to surrender. If we have to fight our way into their city, there will be no mercy. It will be Thebes all over again. The men are fine with that, my king, make no mistake. We need to use Tyre as an example, if you plan to head to Giza and Egypt next. We cannot have the Phoenician coast rising up behind us. But to let on that we have a fleet capable of bringing Tyre to her knees will incite them to more dangerous tactics while you are gone. The men cannot handle that at their current exhaustion and stress levels.”

Alexander tapped his lower lip thoughtfully and then glanced at Antigonus, who sent a guileless look back at the younger man. “Very well, the fleet remains amongst us in secret then. I go to Sidon and come back with it. Steve’s right. We cannot leave Tyre alone with this level of defiance. Athens needs no excuse to rebel and take everyone else with her, no matter what side of the sea they are on.”

Steve glanced at Antigonus, who gave him a curt, approving nod and then to Bucky, who’d stepped up during the previous conversations. Bucky gave him a fierce grin and Steve relaxed. Good, he’d not overstepped himself.

The planning and scheming continued on into the night, with refreshments brought in by servants and slaves for the men to eat and drink while they debated strategies. Steve had never sat on a war council before. It was enlightening how democratic and open it was. Alexander was king and made the final decisions, but he weighed the opinions and thoughts of his generals and companions equally, mixed strategies together to make a better one or outright dismissed some as too complicated or unworkable.

It was well into the night when Alexander stood up from his couch and stretched. “We have a plan. I leave tomorrow for Sidon. Steve will create a team to make these remarkable floating battering rams. Otherwise we will continue making the causeway and defending the workers as much as we can from Tyre’s mischief until I return. The Macedonian navy will blockade the two Tyrian ports and make sure no supplies or aid gets to them. Hopefully they will see the futility of further resistance and surrender. If not, we convene another war council and find a new strategy.”

There were nods all around. Bucky slipped next to Steve, his strength a warm reassurance.

Alexander clapped his hands once in a sign of dismissal. “Excellent. Everyone to bed then. The new phase in our siege of Tyre begins tomorrow.”

Bucky grabbed Steve by the wrist and tugged him toward the exit of the tent and out into the cool night. They walked in companionable silence to Bucky’s tent, slipping inside the dark interior. Bucky lit a couple lamps, giving a soft glow within. Steve stood in the doorway, watching.

“You were awful quiet,” Steve finally said. 

Bucky stilled his movements for a moment, shrugged and began to disrobe. 

“So, I’m staying with you tonight?”

“I have my own orders,” Bucky told him softly, turning to face Steve, his face a picture of confliction.

“And that is?”

“Tonight, the king’s food taster was poisoned.”

Steve’s went cold. “What?” he gasped.

“There was an assassination attempt on the king. He’s had a food taster since before Sidon. Even Philip didn’t have one of those, but word came to us that the Persian king would see Alexander dead by any means necessary rather than face him on a field of battle again.” Bucky’s expression was unreadable.

“And what is your mission?” asked Steve, dreading the answer.

“Find the assassin.”

Steve thought about this a moment and then stepped further into the tent. “How?”

Bucky’s expression didn’t change but he reached up and brushed a hand through Steve’s shoulder length hair. “I have my ways.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“Who do you think investigated the conspiracy against Philip after his death?” Bucky asked, almost sadly.

“I-“ Steve had no answer to that for a second. “I didn’t realize there had been one. I assumed Pausanias acted alone.”

“We may never know. Alexander suspected his mother’s complicity in Philip’s death. I was ordered to find out whether it was true or not.” Bucky turned away, his expression turning grim.

Steve felt a great sorrow for his king. Philip had not been a demonstrative man, Steve had heard, hard on his son and in constant state of battle with his main wife, Alexander’s mother, Olympias. Even despite acknowledging Alexander as his heir, even haphazardly at that had been, Philip had still divorced Olympias and married a girl barely old enough to bear children. Macedonian kings could have multiple wives, though no other man carried that privilege. Philip did so, marrying whenever the mood struck him, for political alliances or for lust, or both.

Olympias and her son were proud. Philip’s cavalier high-handedness must have hurt and infuriated them both. Steve wondered abruptly if perhaps Alexander was complicit in his father’s death and then dismissed the idea. Patricide was something the clear eyed, fierce man Steve had seen tonight would not stoop too, surely.

Compelled, Steve asked, “And what did you discover?”

“Oh, Olympias had ample reason to see the old king dead,” Bucky said dully. “So did Alexander and I told him so. Thankfully Alexander took this opinion with equilibrium.”

“And?”

“Yet despite Olympias giving honors to Pausanias like she did, I found nothing of conspiracy about her regarding her lord and master’s death.”

Steve relaxed. “How would you have reported it if you had found her guilty of such a crime?”

Bucky turned to Steve with a thoughtful expression. “Such a question gave me many sleepless nights, I assure you. I have thought of it many times and I still have no answer for that question. I would like to think I would lie to him to spare his feelings, for he has great affection for his mother, despite her autocratic handling of him. But he expects honesty of me so could I lie to him about so important a topic?”

“Was there a conspiracy?” asked Steve, moving to the bed and sitting down, pulling his right leg up to his chest and clasping it with both arms. “I seem to remember hearing someone was holding Pausanias’ escape horse?”

“That man escaped, whoever he was,” Bucky reported grimly, sitting next to Steve on the bed and leaning into him as if for comfort. “I interviewed slaves and servants all over the palace and of Pausanias’ family. I was given permission to interrogate his disgraced family. Though there was discontent in how Philip treated Pausanias both as lover and soldier in his army, I found no conspiracy. Pausanias hatched this plan alone.”

“I didn’t think him that smart,” confessed Steve thoughtfully.

That drew a bark of laughter from Bucky. “Who would?” He shifted a bit, wrapping an arm around Steve’ waist as if for comfort. “Pausanias was a pretty boy, nice to look at and undoubtedly to fuck but a learned philosopher he was not by any stretch. He was fluff, pure and simple. Used and easily forgotten.”

“Yet smart enough to know when he’d been dishonored,” Steve concluded. “And smart enough to figure out the perfect time to strike at an unarmed, arrogant king.”

“Yes. Smart enough for that.”

Steve unwrapped his arms from around his leg and pulled Bucky tightly against him. “Do you need my help?”

Bucky gave a snort of laughter, the mood lightening a bit. “You’ve got your own work to do. Floating battering rams? How does that work?”

“That’s what the engineers are for. I just had this vision of using them against some of the weaker points of Tyre’s walls to find a way in. The gods know, we can’t climb the damn thing, not with their fierce defense.” Steve brushed a kiss on Bucky’s head. “We’ll figure it out. It may not work at all but it’s been on my mind the last week or so. I thought it couldn’t hurt to mention it.”

“Alexander loves ideas like that,” Bucky told him with a laugh. “The more impossible it seems to be, the more he’s determined it will work.”

“The causeway wasn’t a bad idea, per se, but …” Steve let his sentence drift off as Bucky started to kiss his throat. “I guess we’re done talking for the night.”

“Yes,” Bucky said huskily. “We’re done talking of anything meaningful. All I expect of you now is ‘more’, ‘yes’ and ‘oh Bucky’. Can you handle that kind of chatter?”

Steve grinned at his lover. “I think I can handle that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as the histories relate, there was no Persian, or other, conspiracy to kill Alexander. Most of the assassination attempts later during the campaigns were from within the army itself. The idea that the Tyrians attempted to assassinate Alexander, or that the Persians were trying to find ways to do so as well, is entirely of my own making for the story. However, to be honest, it wouldn't be strange, especially considering the number of Persian kings dead by assassination themselves.


	7. Chapter 7

The army moved slowly along the plains of the Persian coast, heading toward various port towns that Alexander was determined to conquer and make loyal to him. Many surrendered before the army even reached them, but the island city of Tyre refused to surrender. They fortified themselves behind their city walls and seemed to taunt Alexander and his army from their island fortress.

Steve found himself drawn into the king’s inner circle, thanks to Bucky. The man had taken a shine to him, there was no doubt, often swinging by Steve’s pitched tent to chat and flirt, cajoling Steve into joining Bucky for a private dinner here and a feast with the other Companions there. Steve was helpless to resist. 

At first the other man’s attentions embarrassed Steve, thinking they were fleeting and temporary. Yet as Bucky persisted his attentions, Steve found himself growing flattered and returning the interest. He’d never been much of a flirt, whereas Bucky seemed a natural born flirt, but Steve reacted to Bucky’s casual and deliberate touches with ones of his own. In the two months since Granicus, it was frankly making Steve a little crazy. Something was going to have to give eventually, his libido or his sanity.

The army settled on the coast facing Tyre, the fortress city looming in the distance, waves crashing upon the shore of both mainland and island. Steve walked to the shoreline after seeing his tent pitched and belongings moved there. It was shaping to be a long siege; he wasn’t anticipating going anywhere anytime soon. He stared off into the Mediterranean well beyond Tyre and wondered if Alexander’s plan to build a land bridge between the shore and the island would actually work. 

He’d heard everyone talking about it but his own strategic mind saw the many things that could go horribly wrong. It wasn’t his plan though and he had to follow orders.

“Steve!” called a voice behind him and he turned to see Bucky all but running toward him.

“Bucky,” he called back with a small, awkward wave.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” panted Bucky when he came up next to Steve. They were close enough to the water that the tide washed their feet and took away Bucky’s footprints in the sand.

“I just wanted to see Tyre,” Steve said, motioning to the distant city.

Bucky looked out and frowned. “It’s going to be a hard siege,” the Companion acknowledged, “but if we get the ships we need we can breach the walls.”

“If we get the ships,” Steve returned gravely. “Does Alexander have that kind of allies here?”

Bucky shrugged. “He’s practically part magician. He’ll do it.”

Steve nodded and turned his gaze back out to the dark sea before them. He startled when Bucky’s hand brushed his, grasping tightly before releasing. “Join me for the evening meal,” Bucky invited with a husky voice.

Steve’s loins and gut both tightened. “I shouldn’t. My companions are starting to think I’m getting above myself.”

“What? Why?”

“One accused me of sleeping my way into an officer’s position,” Steve told him, remembering one of his fellow foot soldier’s accusations just the day before.

Bucky’s lips thinned in consternation. “If only I could get you in bed, then that accusation has a chance of being true.” The words all but exploded out of Bucky. 

Steve was startled. “What?”

Bucky rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “Steve, I’ve been flirting with you. Inviting you to private meals. Other than bending over and presenting you with my arse, I’m not sure how else to show you I’m interested in pursuing more than friendship with you!”

Steve digested this. “I thought it was just me with this attraction,” he admitted.

Bucky gaped a minute. “What?”

“You flirt with everybody. The wives and whores that follow the army. Other soldiers. Hell, even Hephaestion gets flirted with in front of Alexander. I didn’t think you were singling me out.”

Bucky continued to stare at Steve in consternation before lunging at him, left hand clasping around Steve’s head and pulling the taller man down into a kiss. Bucky’s lips were soft and dry, warm with a hint of something spicy. Steve hesitated for a moment and opened his mouth on a sigh, which Bucky took immediate advantage of, slipping his tongue into Steve’s mouth and sweeping it around as if tasting him.

Steve felt his knees go weak. He’d been kissed, but only perfunctory kisses, a quick press of mouths. Even his sexual experience was laughable, quick couplings behind buildings or in barns. And since he’d joined Alexander’s army to cross the Hellespont, he’d had no sexual dalliances at all.

Bucky broke the kiss and looked up at Steve, blue-gray eyes shining in the dimming daylight. “Does that resolve any issues you may have about me wanting you?” Bucky asked huskily.

Steve smiled slightly, self-deprecatingly, and shook his head. Bucky turned away, hand still clasping Steve’s and gave him a tug to follow.

“Your tent or mine?” asked Bucky with a leer over his shoulder.

“I would prefer yours. All I have is soldier’s tack for food right now.” Steve gave a slight smirk at Bucky’s grimace.

“Now that I have your attention finally, and cooperation, I plan on taking full advantage of it,” Bucky warned him, angling them off the sandy shore and onto firmer ground. Steve let Bucky tug him deeper into the camp where the court had their tents pitched near the king.

“If you must,” Steve replied with a smile and mock-reluctance.

Bucky’s tent was a little further away from the rest, a luxurious colorful woolen contraption. In the light of day, it was blue with gold accents. Slaves pottered around it and all bowed respectfully at Bucky and Steve as they approached. 

“Bring the wine and food and then leave us,” Bucky commanded in a kindly tone. The three slaves bowed and nodded as Bucky tugged Steve within the tent. One long bed was setup within, as well as a portable writing desk and chair. A trunk sat at the foot of the bed, up against the wooden frame. Wool and linen multi-colored blankets were tossed haphazardly across the bed. Steve had been in Bucky’s tent before. It always had a lived-in look to it, whereas Steve’s tent, small though it was, was spartan.

Bucky pulled Steve to the bed and pushed him down on it. The slaves entered with a table large enough for several trays of food and a large flagon of wine as well as two plain gold goblets. Bucky dismissed the slaves with a shooing motion and turned to Steve with a feral smile when the tent flap closed behind them.

“Now I have you all to myself. With expectations,” he added lasciviously.

Steve blushed but met Bucky’s gaze calmly. “I was promised food and wine first. I have a feeling we’re going to need it to keep our strength up.”

Bucky gave a startled laugh and turned to pour the wine, handing Steve one of the goblets when he’d finished. Bucky raised his goblet in a toast. “To us!”

Steve raised his as well. “To us!”

They both drank deeply. Bucky set his goblet on the table and crept onto the bed, burying his hands in Steve’s hair and kissing him deeply. Their tongues mated in a frantic dance and Steve finally had to stop it lest he spill his wine all over the bed.

Bucky set Steve’s goblet aside, stood up and grabbed a plate of some sort of date delicacy off the table. Without a word, Bucky picked up one of the half-cut dates filled with some sort of mince and slipped it between Steve’s lips. Steve accepted the offering, chewing quickly and swallowing. He had a hard time tasting the spices, as all he could still taste was Bucky.

All he wanted to taste was Bucky.

But this was Bucky’s seduction. Steve would let it play out for Bucky’s sake. Besides, he rather liked the idea of being seduced.

They shared the plate of dates and then a plate of sea caught fish patties. In between food, they stole kisses from each other. When the last patty was gone, Bucky all but tossed the plate over his shoulder and shoved Steve down on the bed in a show of aggression. Steve put his hands on Bucky’s hips as Bucky straddled Steve’s thighs.

“How do you like it?” Bucky whispered huskily, running his hands lightly over Steve’s chest. The chiton Steve wore was unhooked from his shoulders with a flick of Bucky’s fingers and the material drawn down, revealing Steve’s bare chest.

“Do you mean whether I top?” asked Steve, reveling in Bucky’s touch as the other man tweaked one nipple and then the other.

“Yes.”

“I’ve only ever been top,” Steve confessed.

Bucky gave a leering grin. “Fine by me,” he said before leaning over for a deep kiss.

Before Steve knew it, both of them were divested of clothes, touching lightly bare skin from hip to ears. It was driving him wild. Bucky was a master at driving a man crazy with want and he delighted in learning all of Steve’s hotspots.

Steve was finding the areas that drove Bucky wild as well and delighting in them. While Steve was calm and controlled, Bucky was a wild hedonist. Though seeming opposites, Steve could also see how they complimented each other.

Bucky slipped down to suckle one of Steve’s nipples, causing Steve to arch into the sensation with a gasp, closing his eyes to revel in the sensation. When Bucky moved to the other nipple Steve couldn’t stop the groan pulled out of him. “Yes!” he breathed.

“Yes?” Bucky’s voice was wicked.

“If you’re going to be bottom,” Steve told him opening his eyes and glancing down at the other man’s deliciously disheveled features, “shouldn’t I be the one doing the torturing?”

Bucky gave a soft laugh. “Well, by all means, if you think you’re up to it, lover.”

Steve moved like lightning, flipping Bucky onto his back and looming above him. “Let’s see how you like it,” Steve told him with what he was sure was a wicked grin. He started on Bucky’s neck, drawing his lips, then his tongue down the long elegant length. He threw in a few nips and bites here and there just to get Bucky gasping.

At the join of Bucky’s neck and shoulder Steve sucked until even in the dim lamp light he could see a small blood mark raised. He smiled in satisfaction. Bucky was marked as his, at least for a few days. Then he worked his way down Bucky’s chest.

Bucky’s chest hair was crisp and curly, not overly long, and plentiful. He wasn’t tremendously hairy like some men, Steve noted, just a light dusting that was arousing. He dotted quick kisses all over Bucky’s upper chest, light enough that Bucky actually chuckled and said, “That tickles!”

“Noted,” Steve murmured before latching his mouth around one of Bucky’s already pebbled nipples. He suckled gently and grazed it with his teeth, making Bucky arch into it with an “oh”. He laved it with his tongue to ease any sting and then kissed his way over to the other nipple, repeating the process. Bucky sank his hands into Steve’s hair and Steve chanced a glance up. Bucky was staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, totally caught up in sensation. ‘Well,’ thought Steve, ‘let’s give him something to really feel.’

And with that, Steve trailed his right hands down Bucky’s waist, circling lightly his belly button, dipping a finger teasingly into the dip and rimming it. Bucky gasped. Steve went further down, brushing in a light caress the sharp V of Bucky’s hip bones, the skin soft and sensitive. A trail of hair trickled down from Bucky’s chest to his scrotum and Steve’s mouth followed the trail. 

His hand wrapped around Bucky’s cock and rolled the foreskin gently. A bit of precum moistened Steve’s hand and he milked the cock to get a bit more. Bucky’s body jerked as Steve did so and another squeaky gasp exited Bucky’s mouth. Steve decided he liked that sound. He wanted to hear it some more.

He licked his palm and covered Bucky’s cock completely, tugging and grasping it, twisting his wrist as he jerked Bucky off. Bucky thrashed and moaned, occasionally eliciting, to Steve’s delight, the squeaky gasp. Just as Bucky was tensing to come, Steve released him and drove up his body to capture a kiss. 

Bucky groaned into the kiss and broke it, gasping, “Why’d you stop?”

“Ah, you don’t come until I do,” Steve told him with a laugh. “Please tell me a sensualist like yourself has unguent?”

Bucky fumbled under the pillows and tugged out a glass bottle with a small cork stopper. Steve grabbed it, slicked up his right hand and used his left to tug Bucky’s legs up and apart. Bucky went willingly, eyes glazed in the lamplight.

Steve inserted one finger into Bucky’s tight hole, causing the other man to hiss and throw his head back. Steve waited for Bucky’s body to adjust, curling his finger every once in awhile just to elicit a new reaction. Then came the second finger, stretching Bucky a bit more and causing the other man to arch with a hissed, “Yes, Steve!”

“Are you a screamer, Bucky? Is the whole camp going to know what we’re doing tonight?” Steve asked huskily. Bucky thrashed his head from side to side as Steve sank in a third finger in and curled them. Whether that was an answer or a reaction to the stimulus Steve didn’t know. He was sure he would get his answer in due time.

Bucky was panting when he lifted his head and glared at Steve. “Get on with it, damn you. I want you in me!” 

“Bossy,” Steve chuckled but another dab of oil slicked his own hard and leaking cock. Soon he was looming above Bucky, holding Bucky’s legs up and apart and sinking into his warm heat.

It was like coming home, Steve thought dazedly, as he began to move in and out. Bucky panted and squirmed, meeting Steve’s thrusts with a desperate urgency. Steve grasped Bucky’s cock after releasing a leg and began to tug on it in the same rhythm as his rocking into Bucky’s body.

Bucky’s eyes, dilated and wide, were staring blankly up at the ceiling, his mouth open and gasping with passion. Steve closed his own eyes and increased the pace. Soon he tugged Bucky’s hand to his cock and braced himself so he could slam deeper and deeper into Bucky’s body as passion overtook Steve as well. Bucky was crying out his completion, his muscles quivering, sending the blond over the edge as well.

Steve had the presence of mind not to collapse on top of Bucky but to pull out of his body and fall to the side. They lay there panting for several long moments before Bucky gave a long groan of contentment and whispered loudly, “By all the gods, Steve, you do that well!”

Steve couldn’t help it. He laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realize the sexual terminology is more modern than ancient but I figured for those not obsessed with the ancient world would follow it easier. The eternal problem of a historical writer: accuracy vs. readability.


	8. Chapter 8

What Ptolemy and Perdikkas predicted was true the next morning: Bucky was unbearable when he awoke. Steve had a slave bring them fruit and bread to break their morning fast and Steve attempted to get Bucky to drink more of the headache relieving wine. Bucky flatly refused.

“It’s vile. You drink it.”

“I didn’t get bashed in the head by a would-be assassin,” Steve retorted.

“It makes me sleepy. I won’t rest easy unless you lie beside me. If I have a headache tonight, I’ll drink some more,” Bucky compromised and Steve, sensing that was the best he was going to get, agreed.

Ptolemy and Perdikkas came to keep Bucky company while Steve headed off to convene with his team of engineers and workers. They had settled on a couple of plans and were going to start small builds to see which was most likely to work.

The afternoon dragged to evening and Steve broke up an argument amongst the engineer brothers before calling a halt for the day. He made quick work through the large encampment to the court tents, coming to a halt before Bucky’s tent. The door flap was tied open and Steve could sense movement within.

“May I enter?” he called.

“Get in here. You can’t be worse company than those two worrywart idiots,” came Bucky’s surly voice.

Steve suppressed a smile and entered, ducking so that he wouldn’t hit his head. Bucky was seated at his desk, reviewing correspondence, ink and stylus on hand to make notes or write letters. “What are you doing?” Steve asked, coming up behind Bucky and putting his hands on his love’s shoulders to massage comfortingly.

“Writing up my thoughts on how I think the assassin moved through camp,” Bucky said. “I think she came ashore and worked her way into camp. We’ve been here a while, it would have taken her time to build up trust. Once she was close enough to the inner circle, she trusted in the fact that no one pays any attention to slaves and slipped into the kitchen tent, located the food meant for Alexander’s private consumption and poisoned it.”

“So, she wasn’t trusted enough to be in on the knowledge that the king has a food taster,” Steve concluded.

“Right.” Bucky perused his notes, relaxing into Steve’s ministrations. “When the alarm was raised that the food taster was dead, she knew she’d failed and had to stay in camp for another try.”

“But now Alexander has gone to Sidon. She’s stuck if she’s not allowed back to Tyre without completing her mission,” Steve deduced.

“Yes, and it made her angry enough to strike at me since I’d been putting out the word to look for and apprehend her,” Bucky finished.

“It does reek of desperation. What did she hope to accomplish?” Steve pondered. 

“She was acting out her feelings,” Bucky told him, turning in his chair and looking up into Steve’s face. “She struck and ran. It was a fatal mistake. Now everyone is searching for her, for attacking me. Alexander’s mishap is not widely known, but your cries to get me help alerted the camp that there was danger afoot. We had to put out that a slave attacked me and that we know who it is. She’s gone to ground but she won’t stay there long. We’ll find her,” Bucky clenched the hand not holding the document into a fist, “and then we can interrogate her as to who gave her the order to kill Alexander.”

There was a chill down Steve’s spine at the word ‘interrogate’. Often it meant torture. Steve disapproved of violence used in that way. Why would you get the truth when the person under such interrogation would only tell you what you wanted to hear to make the pain stop? He decided to broach this topic some other time, like when the woman was caught and decisions were being made.

“You seem better than this morning,” Steve observed, turning the topic and stilled his hands on Bucky’s shoulders after a light squeeze.

“The headache has dulled,” Bucky reported. “I have my appetite back. Ptolemy and Thais have invited us to dine with them,” he added.

Steve hesitated a moment and then nodded. “I’ve never met Thais. I’ve seen her around camp but never met or spoken to her.” He didn’t mention that he had no idea what to say to a sophisticated hetaira. Women had never been people Steve was comfortable with.

Bucky, not sensing Steve’s unease, sighed. “I thought about refusing but Ptolemy said he wanted to run some plans by you.”

Steve tensed. “I’m not a commander,” he gritted out.

“No, but you have a brain and you use it,” countered Bucky with a reassuring grin. “Ptolemy’s been babbling about this plan all day. Perdikkas and I have both listened to it and tried to talk him out of it. Now it’s your turn. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

Steve heaved a put-upon sigh and nodded. “Very well. Do I need to change? I’m all dirty from work today.”

Bucky stood and gave Steve a predatory smile. “Oh, I’m sure I can get you all cleaned up for dinner tonight,” he purred, looping his arms around Steve’s neck and leaning up for a kiss. “It’s the least I can do for my protector.”

“Protector,” Steve scoffed even as he accepted the kiss.

Bucky soon called for a tub for Steve to bath in and dressed him in one of Bucky’s fine chitons, black as tar with yellow geometric patterns bordering it. Bucky tried to place jewelry upon him but Steve shrugged him off.

“I don’t feel comfortable wearing that stuff, Bucky,” he protested

“But you look so handsome!” protested Bucky but he subsided all the same.

Together they traipsed to Ptolemy’s tent, where laughter and music was already spilling forth. A long couch had already been set aside for them and they shared it, while servants brough food and wine.

“Steve! Bucky!” cried a somewhat drunk Ptolemy. In the Companion’s arms was a very beautiful woman, with curling dark hair and equally dark eyes that seemed to miss nothing. Her smile was practiced but not cold, not quite lighting her eyes. Here, Steve reckoned, was a calculating woman though what she was doing with the rough Ptolemy and the ramshackle ways of a military camp was beyond Steve’s comprehension. “Steve, this is my love, Thais. Is she not as beautiful as Aphrodite?” Ptolemy ran a large finger gently across her cheek and she turned to face her patron, a genuine smile lighting her features. Steve relaxed.

“She is indeed lovely. Nice to meet you, Thais, I am Steve,” he said awkwardly.

Thais turned that wise gaze on him and purred, “The infamous Steve, son of Joseph. I’ve heard so much about you. We must get to know one another. Anyone who can keep Bucky in line is someone I must know more about.”

Bucky snorted. “I keep him in line, Thais. He’s always in trouble.”

“Who found who laying half dead on the ground last night?” asked Steve with an arched eyebrow. To his surprise, Bucky stuck his tongue childishly out at him. He laughed despite himself.

“You will see we are less formal here than at Alexander’s symposia,” Thais told him, raising a wine goblet to her lips.

“Steve, you need to hear my plan!” Ptolemy all but shouted, obviously several goblets of wine into his evening.

Steve nodded in a ‘go ahead’ gesture.

“We need to goad out the Tyrian dogs from their fortress,” slurred Ptolemy.

“And how would we do that?” Steve asked.

“Burn old Tyre to the ground,” Ptolemy told him eagerly.

Steve gaped and then looked first at Bucky, then at Perdikkas who sat across the room from them and had been quiet up to this point. “How much wine have you consumed this day, Ptolemy?” demanded Steve. “It houses an old temple to Herakles there. That temple may have been there at the time Herakles was alive! That’s like burning down a temple to Zeus or, or Athena in Athens!”

Ptolemy sobered a moment and then belched. “Oh, well, there is that. I suppose if we did that Alexander would be unhappy.”

“Plus, we are camped all around the old city. We would have to send the camp many miles away to keep it from catching fire by accident. Then we would have to control the fire so that we could move back in time for Alexander to rejoin us.”

Ptolemy looked shamed a minute. Steve turned to Bucky. “Why did none of you think of these things to argue with?” he asked incredulously.

“We did. He wouldn’t listen,” Bucky told him while he munched on a grape. “I told you he’d listen to you when he wouldn’t listen to us.”

Steve snorted. “Enough nonsense. We wait for Alexander to return and then we hit Tyre hard and fast, give them no ground and no quarter. They will fall soon enough,” he said with great authority and faith in his king.

There was a rousing shout of acclamation from those present and soon the conversation turned to the hunting they had all done in the past. Thais made sure the wine flowed and the food was plentiful.

Steve stood up to piss outside the tent and returned to find Bucky had vacated their couch to speak with someone else that Steve didn’t recognize. In his place sat Thais, obviously waiting on Steve to return. Steve awkwardly sat next to her and gave a half-hearted smile.

“I won’t bite,” she told him in a sultry tone.

“I’ve never been very comfortable with women, beautiful or otherwise,” he confessed lamely.

She smiled knowingly. “I understand, but truly I just wish to be friends. Ptolemy thinks highly of you, as does Alexander. Bucky won’t shut up about you. I merely wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” She sat back and Steve felt uncomfortable as her gaze swept him up and down. “You are most handsome, well-built, and, as I understand it, skilled in battle. What is a paragon like yourself not doing holding an officer’s rank?”

Steve looked away from her frank perusal. “I don’t want to send men to their deaths,” he confessed. “I’d rather die with them than do that.”

She was still a moment and then sighed. “I see.” And Steve thought maybe she did. It couldn’t be easy, he thought, being a courtesan of sophistication following an army, never knowing if the man who not only held the keys to your future but also your heart might not return from battle one day. “I understand,” she said simply.

“Can you work your magic to see that all of them,” here Steve subtly gestured to the group of officers around them, “leave me alone about it.”

She gave a throaty laugh. “Oh, Ptolemy will be easily influenced. Maybe even Bucky and Perdikkas. Alexander?” She tapped a slender finger against her chin thoughtfully. “Alexander makes his own decisions. You can sway him only if he wants to be swayed. Otherwise, it’s like fighting a storm. Impossible. If Alexander decided to raise you in the ranks, there’s naught you can do about it, I’m afraid.” She gave a tiny shrug.

Steve gave her a smile. “I understand and I thank you for your efforts on my behalf in this in any case, Lady Thais.”

“Oh, Steve, I’m no lady,” she smiled at him beguilingly.

“I’d wager my inherited fortune that you are more lady than many so-called honorable women,” Steve told her earnestly.

She blinked in surprise at him and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re sweet,” she murmured.

Steve jumped when an arm wrapped possessively around his waist. “Hands off, Thais,” growled Bucky in Steve’s ear.

Thais raised her hands placatingly. “I only meant to show affection, Bucky, not designs upon his virtue. I leave that in your capable hands.” She gave Steve a wink and slinked back off to rejoin Ptolemy, who hugged her to him tightly.

“What were you two conversing so intently about?” demanded Bucky in a slightly jealous tone. 

Steve’s insides warmed to hear it. “Life. She was harmlessly flirting, Bucky. I told her she was more a lady than many other women who had a claim to the title. So, she kissed me in thanks for the compliment.”

Bucky blinked at him, the wine slowing his wits, Steve noticed. “Oh. Well, that was nice of you. Thais is nice.”

“Yes, she’s very nice.” Steve was amused. “And you are very drunk. Is that wise so soon after being hit in the head?”

“Don’t care,” Bucky murmured, kissing Steve on the opposite cheek Thais had kissed him on. “Feels good to let go. Been too tightly controlled the last few weeks.”

Steve gave a feral smile. “I know how to make you let go even more,” he whispered huskily.

Bucky blinked drowsily and then gave Steve a huge smile. “Yes. Let’s. Now.” Bucky urgently tugged Steve to his feet and toward the tent’s doorway.

There were a few catcalls and Ptolemy yelled, “Put him to bed, Steve!” that caused Steve to blush as they exited.

Bucky stumbled on his way to the tent, hardly keeping upright. Steve barely got Bucky onto the bed before the other man fell into a drunken doze. Steve gave a chuckle, undressed them both and wrapped the blankets tight around them for the night. Perhaps the morning light would rekindle Bucky’s libido.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tyre at this time was actually a city in two locations: one on the mainland and one on an island in the bay. The mainland city was the original city, called Old Tyre, while the island fort/city was the new, more habited and trade oriented location. Old Tyre still had temples that were in use by all Tyrians and when Alexander approached Tyre and requested entry, the island Tyrians politely declined and suggested Alexander just do his worshipping at the temples of Old Tyre. Unfortunately for them, Alexander's pretext of worshipping at the temple of Hercules (someone he considered an ancestor) was just the excuse he needed to lay siege to their island city. A city that to this day is no longer an island due to his causeway.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beg pardon for not posting yesterday. It was a long drive home and I started early in the morning and it was bad weather. Posting slipped my mind.

A week passed, then two. One of the prototype floating battering rams was approved to work and the workers were hard at building as many as they possibly could before the king returned. Trees were examined for hardness, chopped and felled, and cut to make the rafts and battering rams. Steve worked his men hard but fairly. He didn’t work them from sun up to sun set as some would have and allowed for breaks and rest. It was slow going, however, slower than anyone could have predicted. Steve feared there would not be the impressive number of floating battering rams as he had imagined waiting to greet the king and the fleet.

Bucky was optimistic, however, after all, there was only so much wall around Tyre. “It’s not as if you have to have enough of them to cover around the whole island,” he told Steve, running a hand through Steve’s sparse chest hair one night when Steve had confessed his concerns. “You need just enough to put pressure on certain weak spots. Maybe enough to replace ones that are damaged by the defenders.”

“Yes, I suppose,” agreed Steve and turned the discussion away from sieges of islands to sieges of Bucky’s virtue.

The slave had not been spotted, which was Bucky’s concern and dismay. That someone harbored her was undeniable but who and where was anyone’s guess.

The days and weeks past. Word came that Alexander engaged in a skirmish with Arab tribes on a trading mission. A couple weeks after that a rider came screeching before Ptolemy with a missive stating that the fleet was its way and would be there soon. Ptolemy convened the war council, minus Alexander, to announce the fleet’s movements their way. Steve battering rams were floating in the bay, ready to be moved into position at the king’s command.

The days crawled by, everyone on edge. Something, Steve thought to himself as tempers frayed, was going to have to give sooner rather than later. The king needed to get here and take command once more. The work on the causeway had gone as far as it could without taking significant casualties. They could see trade ships entering the island’s harbors, delivering supplies to Tyre’s residents. It was all so frustrating.

A week after the missive arrived that the king was setting sail, a cry rose up in camp. Ships had been spotted in the distance. As they grew closer a wave of relief broke amongst soldier and slave alike. The king had returned and would take control once more.

By evening, Alexander was on shore, regaling anyone who would listen of his fight with the Arabs and examining the causeway’s progress as well as Steve’s floating battering rams.

“Tomorrow we block their harbors,” he announced. “No one in or out of Tyre.”

Steve’s stomach clenched. He hadn’t seen Bucky all day and he wasn’t present at this convention of officers. Alexander’s words seemed prophetic somehow. How the assassin slave had gotten off Tyre was still a mystery. If one could make it off, a larger select few could as well.

Once the conference broke up, Steve returned to Bucky’s tent. It was rare that Steve slept anywhere else now. His own tent now just housed his few belongings. He almost exclusively dined and slept with Bucky.

Bucky was not there. The feeling that something was wrong continued to plague Steve and he left Bucky’s tent to make inquiries. “Ho! Ptolemy!” he called out, spotting the older man. Ptolemy paused his steps and waited for Steve to catch up. “Have you seen Bucky?” asked Steve worriedly.

“He was at the meeting just now,” Ptolemy said but Steve shook his head.

“No, he wasn’t. I haven’t seen him all day,” Steve reported.

Ptolemy looked concerned. “Bucky wouldn’t shirk his duty. He would have heeded Alexander’s request for all officers to be present,” Ptolemy said with certainty. “Come, we must report him as missing.”

Steve swallowed but followed Ptolemy straight to Alexander’s tent. A tall, strikingly handsome man was exiting the king’s tent. “Ptolemy, Alexander is readying to sleep. Long day tomorrow.”

“Hephaestion, Bucky is missing.”

The man Steve now knew to be Alexander’s close confidant, Hephaestion, frowned and ducked back in the tent. “Come!” called Alexander’s voice. Once Steve and Ptolemy were within, finding Alexander sitting in a camp chair at a desk, the king said gravely, “What’s this about Bucky missing?”

Ptolemy looked to Steve. “I have not seen him all day, my king. He’s still making inquiries into the whereabouts of the slave he believes attempted to poison you. He wasn’t at your officers meeting and he’s not in his tent.”

Alexander shared a speaking glance with Hephaestion. “Make a coordinated search of the camp. I want a timeline of when he was seen and his movements throughout the day,” the king ordered.

Hephaestion and Ptolemy nodded and exited. Steve went to follow them but Alexander stayed him with a vice-like grip of his arm. “My king?” Steve desperately wanted to be helping.

“Let them search. We must talk.” Alexander motioned Steve to sit on a cushion laid down on the rug floor. Steve gingerly sat, uncomfortable. “You are a remarkable man, Stephanos. You have served both me and my father with honor. I know you fear for Bucky’s safety for I see the concern in your eyes, but I must ask for my friend’s sake…what are your intentions regarding Buchanan?”

Steve blinked in surprise. “I love him, my king,” he said simply. “He makes me happy, content and loved. He understands me. I would die for him.”

Alexander nodded. “I see. I heard him call you Achilles back at the symposia after Granicus.” Alexander sat back in his chair and thought a moment. “Hephaestion is my beloved. I would die for him as well, and he for me. We jokingly refer to each other as Achilles and Patroclus. Perhaps Bucky is your Patroclus, eh, Achilles?”

Steve flushed. “Yes, I suppose,” he admitted. “I hadn’t thought of us in that way.”

“He thinks the world of you, has since the moment he saw you on that battlefield all those months ago. He immediately sung your praises to me. His letters to me while I was in Sidon was full of praise of your work here. I’m sure you’ve been warned by his other friends about his heart so I’ll refrain. But I remind you that I owe you a boon. If you wish to be raised to the ranks of cavalry to be closer to Bucky, I will be happy to do so. We are, after all, often in the thick of fighting ourselves.”

Steve thought a moment. “I’m a skilled horseman, more than Bucky thinks since I don’t brag of it, but riding a horse into war makes me uncomfortable. They ride into potential death because their rider encourages them so. To be responsible for so noble an animal’s life is something I could not bear, I do not think. No more than I want to send men into battle to die as a leader of men. I am content where I remain, my king.”

Alexander sighed and nodded. “I understand. I wish your heart wasn’t so but I understand and respect your wishes. However, if you ever change your mind you have but to tell me and I will raise you through the ranks so fast it would make your head spin.”

Despite himself and his worry for Bucky, Steve smiled. “I thank you, lord, for your faith in me.”

“I wish you to remain with me while we wait for news,” Alexander told him, staring into the oil lamp sitting on his desk. “I see you are eager to join the hunt. If what I think has come to pass has happened, I will need that brilliant strategic mind.”

Steve had nothing to say to that so remained quiet and attempted to practice his limited patience. Within an hour Ptolemy reported back to Alexander and Steve what they had found.

“We think Bucky’s been taken prisoner,” he reported with a fearsome scowl.

“Tell me,” demanded Alexander.

“Strangers were reported on the outskirts of the camp. People attempted to confront them but they avoided confrontation. It was thought they were local farmers or traveling merchants looking to deal with officers, not lowly hoplites. One soldier reported these people to Bucky. Bucky went to search for them and hasn’t been seen since a couple hours after noon meal.”

“Where did they go?”

“I don’t know. No one knows.”

Steve knew with certainty where they’d taken Bucky. “Tyre.”

Alexander turned swiftly to him. “What?”

“They took him to Tyre.”

Ptolemy frowned. “How do you know?”

“The same way I would know if something happened to Hephaestion,” countered Alexander. Ptolemy’s frown increased but he nodded. “What do you propose, Steve?” Steve didn’t blink at his king using his informal name.

“We can’t enter the city until we know what secret route they’ve taken.” Steve stood up and paced as he thought. “We need to crack down on the city immediately. The sooner Tyre falls, the better. They obviously have a need for Bucky or they wouldn’t have taken him.”

“Bucky is one of the officers in charge of your personal security,” Ptolemy pointed out. “Perhaps they want him to talk about the holes in it so they can get to you, Alexander.”

“With enough torture, any man will talk.” Alexander’s tone was calm, controlled, perhaps too much so. The hairs on the back of Steve’s neck raised in warning.

“My king, I wish my boon,” Steve blurted out.

Alexander raised an eyebrow.

“Let me go to Tyre and find Bucky. I will keep him safe until you breach the city walls.”

“How will you get in?” asked Ptolemy.

“The same way they did,” Steve said grimly. “I just have to find it.”

“Search for it but do not go in just yet. Put the camp on alert, Ptolemy. I’ll stay on the flagship until the siege is over.” Alexander gave Steve a measuring look. “Steve will look for this supposed alternate route into Tyre and get to Bucky, but only when I say. It will do no good to have both of you captured by the enemy.”

Steve wanted to argue, demand he be allowed to find Bucky and spirit him away. Yet the strategist within him knew that was his emotions speaking, his worry and fear. That would not help Bucky.

“In order to get Bucky out alive, we put pressure on Tyre to give up,” Alexander told them. He looked Steve dead in the eye as he added, “But they could very well kill Bucky in an act of defiance even as we breach the walls.”

Steve had thought of that and wished he hadn’t.

Ptolemy looked grim. “We’ll deploy the battering rams at your command, then, my king, and keep up the causeway attempts as well. With enough pressure on various points around the city, they have to break.”

“For Bucky’s sake, may it be sooner than later,” Alexander said softly. He turned to Steve. “Go. Rest. I need you at peak capacity these coming days. I want you in the first wave through any opening. Your mission will be to slip among them and locate Bucky, get him to safety.”

Steve bowed his head in deference to his king’s wishes. He exited behind Ptolemy, who clapped him sympathetically on the back before walking to his own tent. Steve walked to Bucky’s tent, stood outside it for several long moments before deciding he couldn’t sleep there knowing Bucky’s life was in danger. He walked deeper into the footsoldier’s section of camp to his own meager tent. 

He didn’t sleep that night.


	10. Chapter 10

It took time, time Steve didn’t feel Bucky had. Tyre continued to struggle, making another assassination attempt against Alexander, who did indeed stay aboard ship. The battering rams against weakened areas of the walls and the blockade, though, wore Tyre down. As soon as the walls began to crumble, Steve slipped within.

People who had stayed on the mainland had been interrogated as to the layout of the city and Steve used that knowledge to slip among the panicking masses of Tyrians as Macedonian soldiers boiled through the breaches. He fought like the demon he was purported to be on the battlefield, desperate to get to the palace district where it was surmised Bucky was being held.

His ears rang with the screams of the frightened, the defiant and the dying. A Tyrian soldier ran up to him and Steve launched himself high over the man’s head, slicing his sword sideways to slice into the man’s neck and shoulder. The soldier dropped first to his knees with a gargle even as Steve landed in a crouch. The soldier toppled over, dead or dying. Steve didn’t stick around long enough to check. The hindrance was dispatched, he needed to move on. Bucky needed to be found.

As he slipped deeper into the city, the sounds of battle faded somewhat, but weren’t entirely all gone. Citizens of the city fled deeper as well, innocents that would pay for the defiance against the Macedonian king. Those not killed would be made slaves, Steve figured, but right now that was not his concern.

He darted between two buildings and skulked down the alleyway to another street, this one emptier than he one he’d just left. He all but sauntered down it, heading toward the palace district unimpeded. The palace, a white stone building, loomed before him. Shouting could be heard within as those in charge tried to figure out a way to avoid the destruction of their city.

Guards stood before the palace gates, lifting their spears and swords at Steve’s approach. Steve stopped within loud speaking distance. “You have someone who belongs to me,” he said. “Tell me where he is.”

The guards glanced at each other and rushed Steve. With calm brutality born of experience, Steve cut them down ruthlessly, splattering himself with their blood and leaving their bodies to cool in the street. He was sweating and panting only slightly, entirely focused on his mission: find Bucky, preferably alive. Those within would pay if Bucky was dead. Steve would see to that personally.

His worry and fret of Bucky’s safety had worn Steve’s patience and understanding of Tyre’s defiance to nothing. They were now the enemy and they would receive no quarter. He entered the palace courtyard, encountering no one. He could hear the screams of people fleeing the Macedonians growing nearer, no doubt hoping to seek refuge in the palace.

Steve entered the cool interior of the white stone building. Here is where their intelligence failed and Steve would have to rely on luck or intimidation to find his quarry. He encountered no one as he swept through, bloodied sword raised in wary anticipation. Occasionally he saw the frightened faces of servants and slaves but none of them challenged him. 

But one.

An old man stepped from the shadows and pointed to Steve’s right. “Stairs,” the man said in rough Greek. Steve looked the man over, nodded and headed in that direction.

Sure enough stairs led down underground. The smooth cut of stone turned into the rough walls of a cavern, natural and having little to do with man’s creation. He’d gone down just a little when he heard a growl of challenge. A behemoth of a man stepped from the darkness, a flickering torch in one hand and a giant sword in the other.

Steve didn’t pause. He charged, ducking under a mighty if awkward swing from the giant guard, sliding on the slick cavern floor between the giant’s legs, slicing through the bohemoth’s right leg as he went. He cut muscle and glanced off bone, causing his enemy to bellow in pain and lurch away, limping.

Steve came from his slide into a crouch and then stoody straight, readying himself for an attack by balancing on the balls of his feet. Nimble and quick would have to be the way to handle this fight, he reasoned. The giant had strength and power on his side. Tall and muscular as Steve was, he was no match for the power of this brute.

The guard swung around and Steve moved back from the mighty swing of the sword, dodging the accompanying swing of the torch as well. He jabbed in the opening the lumbering man before him afforded him, sinking his sword shallowly in the gut. The other roared his displeasure and pain, threw the torch down, which thankfully sputtered but stayed lit, and reached for Steve with one meaty paw.

If the brute got his hand on Steve, Steve knew it could crush him. All the giant was missing was a Minotaur's head; he could pass for the Minotaur otherwise. Steve swiped, missing and swiped again, connecting. His sword made a slice along the giant’s free arm.

Steve knew he should be tiring. He’d been fighting steadily for several days, overseeing the battering rams, encouraging the men around him to hold until there was an opening, and then the initial fighting once the opening happened. He wasn’t tired though. He was invigorated. He knew Bucky was here and he knew, somehow, that Bucky was alive.

The giant roared wordlessly and lunged at Steve. Steve ducked and dodged, landing a jabbing blow to his opponent’s once again exposed stomach, sinking his sword in deep and giving it a twist before pulling out. The giant doubled over with a howl and Steve struck once more, this time fatally. He couldn’t decapitate the brute, the neck was too thick, but he could sink his sword into the sinewy body part as deep as it would go. And that’s what he did.

The giant guard gave a grunt of pain, toppled over and Steve swore the cavern shook with the force of his landing. Steve pulled free his sword with shaking arms, swept the torch up off the cavern floor and went in deeper. He heard nothing else, no footsteps of approaching assistance behind or in front of him. He also heard no sound of someone in pain or begging for help.

“Bucky?” he called, his voice rebounding off the walls of the cavern as Steve went deeper into the darkness, only held at bay by the torch in his hand. He was starting to feel clammy and cold, the sweat on his body chilling in the cavern’s murky depths. “Bucky!” he called again.

“No, please,” came a loud whispered voice to Steve’s left and he took the passage in that direction. There he found Bucky, laying upon a filthy blanket, his face and exposed body bruised and battered. He was alive, though, and Steve sagged with relief. The Tyrians had not killed him. Bucky was alive!

Steve rushed to his lover, shoving the sword in it’s sheath at his waist and gently setting the torch down where it wouldn’t go out. He ran his hands gently over Bucky’s body, but found no broken bones or deep wounds.

“Bucky,” he said quietly, gently brushing his hands down Bucky’s face and neck in an effort to get a reaction. “It’s Steve. I’m come for you. We’re here. I’ve come for you.”

Bucky’s eyes opened. In the dim torchlight, Steve could only see them as black holes within his face, not the grey-blue he knew them to be. Bucky blinked feverishly at him, as if disbelieving his eyes. “Steve?” Bucky closed his eyes. “No, I dream you. You aren’t here. Don’t let them get you. Run, Steve, run.”

“Ssh, my love,” Steve said softly, lifting Bucky into his arms and into his lap. “It’s all right. We’ve breached the walls. Tyre has fallen. Can you stand? Can you walk? I might have to fight our way out.”

At those words, Bucky seemed to come more to himself, eyes opening once more to stare at Steve groggily. “They hung me by my arms, beat me for information on Alexander’s strategy. I didn’t know what the king planned, I couldn’t say. They hurt me…” His words ended on a whimper and Steve tamped down the rage that roared through him. He needed to get Bucky out of here and to a physician.

Steve lifted Bucky to his feet, bracing the injured man against the damp walls and wrapping the ragged blanket around his shoulders. Steve picked up the torch and then with his free arm bundled Bucky against him. “Put your arm around me. I need to carry the torch so we can see our way out. You have to walk, Bucky, I’m not leaving you here to get help.”

He put some force of an officer’s orders to his tone of voice and Bucky responded by giving a grunt of effort and a nod to show he understood. Steve wondered if Bucky still thought he was imagining the rescue but decided it didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was getting out of this gods forsaken place. It was like the pits of Hades in here.

The going was slow, Bucky barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Steve’s attention was divided between Bucky and listening for anyone coming to stop them. If someone did come, Steve would have to shove Bucky to the ground behind him, heedless of what damage it might do, to defend them. Though Steve was prepared to do such a thing, it never became necessary.

Step after grueling step until they reached the behemoth that Steve had fought and defeated. The sight of the man caused Bucky to whimper in fear but Steve managed to get his lover past without much issue. The higher they went the lighter and warmer it became. Steve threw the torch away since it was no longer needed and paused their slow footsteps to listen.

All was silent, eerily so. How long it had been since Steve went underground he didn’t know. An hour perhaps, but no more than two. Steve brought Bucky into the full light, causing the injured man to flinch and instinctively raise his hand to shield against the brightness. The old man who had directed Steve to the cavern waited for them.

Without a word, the old man motioned Steve to follow. Unsure why he trusted the man, Steve followed, dragging Bucky with him in slow, painful steps. The old man, a slave Steve was sure, looked impatient at their slow progress but said nothing.

“The army approaches!” came a shout in a corresponding corridor from the one they were in

The old man quickly motioned them within a room, closing the wooden door behind them, leaving it open a crack. Footsteps in the corridor they had just exited came to Steve’s ears and he strained to hear more speech.

“Alexander will kill us all!” despaired the man who had spoken before.

“Those he doesn’t kill he will take as slaves,” came the grim comment from another, also male.

“We shouldn’t have defied him,” spat the first.

“Too late for what-if’s now,” said the second calmly. “Tell your men to hold the palace as long as they can. Make the damned Macedonians bleed for it, they want it so bad.”

Steve set Bucky down on a chair, pulled his sword and crept to the door, moving the old slave out of the way. Steve peeked through the crack in the door to see two bureaucrats speaking, dressed in finery and unarmed. Taking a deep breath, Steve opened the door with a swift movement, stepped into the corridor with his sword raised, blood still staining the blade, and said calmly, “Alexander’s men are already here. Surrender. Now.”


	11. Chapter 11

Steve’s prediction about Tyre’s fate was right. It was a brutal takeover, the frustrations of a long siege taken out on the once defiant citizens. Alexander’s standing orders on how to treat the defeated were upheld but those that had survived would face little mercy from Macedon’s king.

Once the palace had been breached, Macedonian soldiers found Steve holding hostage two high officials of Tyrian government. A litter was made for Bucky and the injured man was moved through the bloodied streets to one of the ships in the harbor to be taken ashore to a physician. Despite Steve’s wishes, Alexander asked Steve to remain in the city to help coordinate. All Steve wanted was to be at Bucky’s side.

Two days passed before Steve was allowed to go to shore. He didn’t bother cleaning up but went straight to Bucky’s tent. Two pages stood guard outside the tent and they straightened to attention at Steve’s approach. 

“How fares Lord Buchanan?” asked Steve in a low voice to them.

The two young men exchanged glances. “He sleeps a lot, screams in his sleep as if Cerberus chases him. The physicians say he will mend but it will take time,” one offered tentatively.

“Why do you stand guard?” asked Steve.

“Alexander’s orders. He says Bucky fears being taken prisoner again,” said the other page.

Steve’s heart clenched at such a fear regarding an enemy now defeated. He nodded to the two boys, who nodded back and one of them opened the tent flap for Steve to enter.

One lamp was lit and Bucky lay sleeping upon his bed. The bruises were fading to yellow and green, the cuts anointed with ointment. White linen bandages could be seen on Bucky’s exposed torso, wrapped as if his ribs had been broken. Steve wanted to cry. He’d forced Bucky to walk with broken ribs, clutching at his love’s waist when he’d been injured so, possibly increasing Bucky’s pain.

Bucky’s eyes opened as if sensing Steve’s presence. They were drugged and hazy. “Steve,” Bucky whispered hoarsely. Steve picked up a goblet on the bedside table and lifted Bucky enough that he could drink from it.

“I am here, my love,” Steve said in a near whisper.

“I thought I dreamed you rescued me but Hephaestion tells me that it wasn’t a dream.”

“No. I demanded Alexander let me find you.” Steve brushed a hand down Bucky’s cut up cheek.

“My Achilles,” murmured Bucky sleepily. “Come. Lie with me.” He made to move his blankets to invite Steve into his bed but Steve stayed his hand.

“No, I haven’t bathed in days. I reek of death and fear. I haven’t eaten in two days. You are injured. You don’t need me here right now.”

Bucky’s lips tipped into the ghost of his usual smile. “I will always need you, my love,” he murmured, settling down though. “Come to me when you have bathed and eaten then. You can rest with me.”

“All right,” Steve agreed, helpless to argue even against that faint invitation. He watched a few moments longer as Bucky fell into a light doze and then stood. He made sure the lamp would not catch the tent on fire and then exited.

The pages snapped to attention again but Steve ignored them. His attention had been caught by Ptolemy exiting his tent some distance away, staring straight at Steve. The older officer waited until Steve was within speaking distance before saying, “We’ve all taken turns checking on him and nursing him. He’ll be fine before long.”

“I worry more for his mind than his body,” Steve said in concern.

Ptolemy looked troubled a moment and then sighed. “Torture is never easy, for those suffering it and those meting it out. I have no doubt that Bucky will come about from it though. He has you to help.”

“Is the king in his tent?” asked Steve, changing the subject.

Ptolemy nodded. “Yes, for now. He goes to the city in a few hours though.”

Steve turned toward the king’s regal tent of multicolored hue, stopping before the pages guarding the entrance. “Tell our king that Steve, son of Joseph, wishes to speak with him.”

One of the pages slipped within just as Alexander’s voice called out, “Let him enter.”

Steve wasted no time and entered. Alexander sat at his desk, Hephaestion lounging in another chair. Both had stylus in hand.

“How fares Bucky?” asked Alexander in concern.

“He sleeps. As soon as I bathe and eat I will join him,” Steve told his king. He hesitated and dropped to his knees in supplication as if to a god.

Alexander made a noise of protest. “Stand up. What are you doing?”

“I ask for another boon, my king,” Steve said firmly, staring at the ground stubbornly.

There was a moment of silence. “Technically, the last boon granted to you was an order,” came Hephaestion’s wry voice, “so you could say that Alexander still owes you.”

“What is this boon you ask of me?” came Alexander’s more gentle voice.

“The kings of Macedon live fraught lives,” Steve began. “In danger more often than in peace. You seem determined to continue this tradition.” He ignored Hephaestion’s laugh. “That means you will assign Bucky more tasks to see to your safety, ferreting out conspiracies that mean you ill and hunting potential murderers.”

Hephaestion’s laughter died away and silence reigned for a poignant moment. “Yes, that is likely,” Alexander said. “Look at me.” Steve complied. “What do you want, Stephanos, son of Joseph.”

“To be Bucky’s bodyguard, to keep him safe so he can keep you safe.”

Alexander and Hephaestion shared a communicating glance. “And how do you propose to do this?”

“Raise me in the ranks. Put me in the cavalry. Whatever you like or deem fit for me,” Steve told him desperately. “I cannot lose him again, I cannot-“ His voice broke with the force of his emotion and he flopped back down in supplication once more to hide the tears leaking from his eyes.

He felt Alexander’s arms around his shoulders and started, as he had not heard the man move.

“I will raise you as high as you like,” Alexander told him gently. “Worry and weep no more. Perdikkas complains constantly of being a nanny to the pages. You will take his place, overseeing the pages. No longer will you be a mere hoplite, a foot soldier. I cannot raise you to Companion at this time, but perhaps in the future, that will change. It will put you in close proximity to Bucky.”

“I’ll find someone with an extra tent. We can’t have the man in charge of the pages in a simple linen soldier’s tent,” Hephaestion said, rising to his feet.

“No, I’ll share with Bucky,” Steve protestest, moving from Alexander’s light embrace and looking up at Hephaestion.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” argued Alexander lightly. “Where will you put the treasure you’ll accumulate in battle? I can’t have you and Bucky sharing a bigger tent than me,” he added jokingly.

Steve gave a weak smile and nodded in acquiescence. “Very well. As my king commands.”

“Your king does command.” Alexander stood and raised Steve from his postulation. “You bow to no one, Steve, especially not me, unless you wish it. You have shown great loyalty to my father and now to me. It is only right that I reward it.” He glanced at Steve and made a moue of distaste. “Now we need to find you clean clothes, a hot bath and food. Then you shall curl up beside Bucky and you both will sleep long and hard. I want to see neither of you for two days, that’s an order.”

Steve gave a small smile at the cheerful order. “As you wish, my lord.”

Alexander made a motion to Hephaestion. “Hephaestion, see to it.”

“Come, Steve, time for some pampering,” teased Hephaestion, turning Steve bodily toward the exit and giving him a light push. Steve did as he was bid.

He was washed, massaged, fed and wined and drowsily led to Bucky’s tent. Hephaestion made sure both men were comfortably ensconced before exiting Bucky’s blue and gold tent and ordering the pages to keep watch over both men. The pages saluted crisply.

Steve slept hard and woke to dim light seeping through the half-closed door flap. Fingers carded through his shoulder length hair. He looked up and saw Bucky smiling down at him with a lovesick expression.

“You should be resting,” admonished Steve quietly.

“All I’m moving is my hand through your hair, my lord,” teased Bucky.

“I’m not a lord,” countered Steve.

“No, but you are in charge of the pages now, so it’s not like you’re a nobody now.”

“Who told you?”

“Hephaestion, yesterday when he brought food in for us to eat. You never woke the entire time Hephaestion regaled me with your demands of Alexander.”

Steve groaned and tried to roll away but Bucky’s arms tightened around him. “Bucky, I have to piss!”

Bucky gave a laugh and released his hold, allowing Steve to get up and use the bucket reserved for bodily functions. Finished, Steve sat on the edge of the bed and regarded Bucky’s amused expression. “You are not angry?”

Bucky shrugged “No. You saved me. I cannot argue having such a good looking bodyguard at my beck and call.”

Steve relaxed a little. “I love you, you know. I know eventually we may have to take wives but I will always love you.”

“Wives,” scoffed Bucky. “I’m the son of a goatherd and a former slave. You are the son of two former slaves. Who cares if we procreate?”

Steve gave a grin at Bucky’s dismissal of future families.

“Now that we have defeated Tyre, what does Alexander propose?” Steve said turning the discussion.

“Egypt via Gaza,” Bucky said.

“Makes sense, strategically. We could use Egypt’s resources at our back when we return to take on Darius and the Persian army.” Steve mulled it over.

“He also wants to visit the oracle of Ammun-Zeus.”

“Why?”

“I don’t ask, I just do as I’m told.” Bucky chuckled at Steve’s perplexed expression, lifting his arms in open invitation for Steve to rejoin him in bed. Steve obliged, snuggling into Bucky with a sigh.

“How do you feel?” asked Steve.

“Sore, still a little battered, but I’ll heal in time for the next adventure Alexander will drag us into.” Bucky didn’t sound all that put out.

“Good. I was afraid you were badly injured and I hurt you further when I rescued you,” worried Steve.

“No, Mother, I’m fine,” drawled Bucky, kissing the top of Steve’s head.

Steve looked up into Bucky’s eyes with a smile. “We shall have to worry for each other now.”

“I suppose we shall. But it will be easier to keep an eye on you since you’ll be in charge of the pages,” Bucky mused.

“I’ll have to review with Perdikkas how the pages have been training,” Steve thought out loud.

“Don’t teach them any of your jumping around. It’s bad enough you do it. Alexander doesn’t need a bunch of pages thinking they are frogs,” teased Bucky around a yawn.

Steve gave a low laugh. “No. My aerials, as old king Philip called them, didn’t work so much against the guard over you. He was huge. I’d have never made it over his head.”

Bucky shuddered. “He wasn’t very smart anyway.”

“I’m glad you’ll be okay, my Buchanan,” Steve said softly, stroking Bucky’s exposed chest softly.

“And I’m glad you found me, my Stephanos,” Bucky returned.

“Alexander told me that you are my Patroclus,” Steve whispered reverently.

“I told you were like Achilles,” reminded Bucky. “Back when we met, remember?”

“If you had died, I would have drug every last ruler of Tyre behind a chariot until they were a bloody mess, unrecognizable to their kin,” Steve said fiercely.

“Well, I don’t plan on dying any time soon, so save that fervor for future battles.” Bucky’s hand strayed down Steve’s chest and belly seductively. “Or for other more pleasurable activities,” he suggested with a leer.

“You’re recovering from torture,” Steve remonstrated sternly, but squirming at the ticklish sensation Bucky evoked.

“I’m not dead, though,” Bucky told him, scooting down the bed until they were face to face. He kissed Steve softly. “No penetration. Just love me, Steve, that’s all I ask, just love me.”

Steve obliged.

~fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And as the prerequisites of Marvel Happily Ever After, we have a happily ever after. Thank you everyone who read along, kudosed and commented. I appreciate you coming on this journey with me and putting up with my occasional historical ramblings.


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